John G. Whittier, the poet of freedom

JOHN G. WHITTIER

The Poet of Freedom

BY

WILLIAM SLOANE KENNEDY

'' He that knows anything worth communicating and
does not comnttinicate it, let him be hanged by the
neck" — TALMUD.

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES

¥ortt

FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY

LONDON AND TORONTO

1892

Copyright 1892 by the
FUNK & WAGNALI.S COMPANY

PREFACE. "> />

WHILE the manuscript of this volume was lying in
the safe of the publishers, I made a little Whittier
itinerary along the storied Essex coast, — a voyage
through Whittier ballad-land, bringing before my
eyes the very scenes of the poems in the study of the
sources of which in the libraries I had made such de
lightful and exciting discoveries. After adventures
manifold and pleasant I found myself on the top of
Powow Hill, that rises just above our poet's old
home in Amesbury. From this coigne of vantage the
eye takes in, in one swift coup d'ceil, a mighty spread
of landscape and sea, beginning with conical Aga-
menticus, violet-dim and far, in Maine, resting for a
moment on the Isles of Shoals, Little Boar's Head,
Great Boar's Head, and Salisbury Beach, traveling
along the tumbled sand dunes of the Ipswich coast,
catching over the blue sea-floor the white sparkle of
the houses of Cape Ann, fetching a compass over
Danvers and Haverhill, to finally rest on the far
range of the Pawtuckaway Hills. This is Essex
County with its winding roads, old shingled barns,
huge stranded rocks, sea estuaries, clean quiet little
sea towns and rugged honest folk, — the Attica of
Massachusetts. What the view from Powow Hill is
to the traveler I hope this book will be to the indoor
reader of Whittier's ballads. I have done my best to
show that Flood Ireson was justly tarred and
feathered, that John Brown did stoop to kiss the slave
child, that Barbara Frietchie did wave that historic
flag in the face of the Confederate troops, that at

IV. PREFACE.

Lucknow both loud and sweet " the pipes of rescue
blew," that Whittier's story of the wreck of the
" Palatine " is true to the letter, and that the romantic
story of Harriet Livermore is truth stranger than
fiction. If, however, you observe with curious interest
how very often the poet slips in minor matters of
historical accuracy in his rhymed poems, you may
ponder the words of Ruskin where he tells us that
" a lovely legend is all the more precious when it has
no foundation." Cincinnatus or any other man might
have plowed a field fifty times over and it would
have signified little to us ;. but if no Cincinnatus
existed at all, and yet the Roman people, to express
their conviction that tilling the soil is a noble occu
pation, invented a Cincinnatus out of hand and en
shrined him for all time in their literature, — " this
precious coinage out of the brain and conscience of
a mighty people " we had better take to heart most
diligently.

The full story of the part Whittier played in the
anti-slavery movement is here set down for the first
time in book form. Many interesting and unexpected
things plowed up during my researches into such
subjects as the mobbings in which Whittier was a
sufferer, the burning of Pennsylvania Hall in Phila
delphia, the estrangement of years which Garrison's
narrow intolerance produced between himself and
Whittier, with the subsequent reconciliation of the
two, and the story of the rise and fall of the Liberty
Party, the lineal predecessor of the party that saved
the Union.

BELMONT, MASS.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I.
ON THE FARM .. 7

CHAPTER II.
THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST 58

CHAPTER III.
WHITTIER AT HOME.. _ 170

CHAPTER IV.
FRIENDSHIPS AND OPINIONS 200

CHAPTER V.

"TELLING THE BEES," AND OTHER BALLADS 220

CHAPTER VI.
STORIES IN RHYME ._ __ 268

APPENDIX.

I. REFERENCE TABLE FOR DATES 313

II. BIBLIOGRAPHY 317

INDEX _ - 325

JOHN G. WHITTIER.

CHAPTER I.

ON THE FA RM.

IN July, 1867, Bayard Taylor wrote to his friend,
Edmund Clarence Stedman, from Friedrichroda in
the Thuringian forest : " How delighted I am with
Whittier's success ! Fields writes that his * Tent '
has already sold twenty thousand copies. Here is a
man who has waited twenty-five years to be generally
appreciated. I remember when his name was never
mentioned without a sneer, except by the small
Abolition clique. In England, too, they are now
beginning to read him for the first time." 1

These statements of Whittier's friend are true in
the main, but need to be somewhat qualified and
annotated. It will hardly do to say that Whittier was
not generally appreciated previous to 1866-67, when
we remember that an edition of his collected works
had been reviewed with high praise by Edwin P.
Whipple as early as 1848 ; that in 1857 he had helped
to establish the " Atlantic Monthly," and that in the

' Life and Letters of Bayard Taylor, ii. 479.

8 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

same year the little two-volume blue and gold edition
of his poems was published by Ticknor & Fields,
and had a tolerably large circulation throughout the
country. And it is further to be noted that his
''Kansas Emigrants" song had been sung from
Massachusetts Bay to the Missouri River by the
pioneer settlers of the debated ground ; that the
maturest creations of his art had been published
(such ballads as " Maud Muller," " Barbara Frietchie,"
" Skipper Ireson," " Mabel Martin," " Telling the
Bees," and " The Pipes at Lucknow ") ; and that at
least two of his war poems — " Ein' Feste Burg" and
" Song of the Negro Boatmen " — had been sung in
the Northern armies.

Still, it is a fact that the publication in 1866-67 of
" Snow-Bound " and " The Tent on the Beach," with
its included ballads, greatly increased the poet's
fame. For thirty-five years he had been chiefly
known as the bard of a despised cause. But the war
had come and gone, the slaves had been freed, and
in any case the people of the whole country would
have turned with reverence to the pages of the poet
of freedom ; but his idyl " Snow-Bound," and his
beautiful ballads, lifted him into the rank of a national
poet, and he has since been greeted as such on both
sides of the sea.

There is fitness in the title " Poet of Free
dom " as applied to John G. Whittier ; for the
inastor-passion of his soul is hatred of tyranny.
When there is no brother-man, heart-broken and in
chains, to rescue, no inhumanity to arraign in words
of withering scorn, then he finds a little leisure
to write ballads and songs. I find by actual

ON THE FARM. 9

count that in more than a third of his poems freedom
is either the main theme or is alluded to in passing.
In love of liberty and the singleness of aim with which
he has devoted his life to its defense Whittier re
sembles John Brown. In both, the moral idea flames
out with volcanic power. Both were sinewed by out
door life. But John Brown was a mechanism of steel
and iron ; the soul of Whittier may be likened to the
frail plant Dictamnus set in a porcelain vase, — a plant
which on a hot day is surrounded by an inflammable
gas that ignites with a sudden flash when a flame is
applied to it.

In the later poetical work of Whittier — that pro
duced after the Civil War — purely literary topics
naturally predominate, although at irregular inter
vals the old lyre of freedom is taken up, either to
chant a paean for some triumph of human rights at
home or abroad or to strike the minor chords over
the passing away of a comrade of the old anti-
slavery days. Indeed, for several years before the
war broke out, he had been engaged in purely literary
work (Songs of Labor and folk ballads). So it is
evident that the lines of his intellectual development
were not altogether determined by national or
political events, nor were precisely coincident with
these, but that his growth followed the common law
of men and nations, — first the age of manly energy,
self-assertion, and moral strife ; then an epoch of
peaces in which the ideal arts, after long slumber,
suddenly crystallize into shapes of beauty.

Although the lives of poets are seldom rich in
dramatic events, they are often ennobled by rare
friendships and set in an interesting environment. In

10 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

the case of Whittier, extreme dislike of publicity has
not availed to conceal his personal adventures in the
anti-slavery crusade, nor to keep enthusiastic friends
from printing descriptions of his personal appearance
and ways. After all, his life has been a semi-public
one, and I feel sure our dear friend will forgive me
for just weaving into a connected narrative such
matters as may permissibly be known of his outward
life.

The rugged and hilly old county of Essex, Mas
sachusetts, may be called the cradle of American
poets ; for in its town of Haverhill, by the Merri-
mack, the poet Whittier was born (December 17,
1807 '), and in the neighboring town of Newbury
lived the immediate ancestors of Longfellow and
Lowell. The old farm-house, the birthplace of
Whittier, is only five miles from the ancestral estate
of the Longfellows. Three miles to the southeast
lies the town of Haverhill. The Whittier farm is at
the junction of the main road to Haverhill and a
cross-road to Plaistow. It is so situated, in a de
pression between surrounding hills, that no other
house is visible from it in any direction. The whole
locality reminds one of the " Knobs " of Kentucky,
being made up of gently rounded hills set close
together. In the Great West they call such rough
land as this " sassy country." On the road to Haver-

1 Some one having raised a doubt as to the exact date of his
birth, Mr. Whittier humorously said, " I cannot say positively from
my personal knowledge when I was born, but my mother told me
it was on the I7th of December, 1807, and she was a very truthful
woman."

ON THE FARM. II

hill you pass, on the left, Kenoza lake, — so christened
by Whittier, — filled with purest water, and terraced
by thick-wooded slopes. A little farther on, the
road skirts the base of a high hill crowned by a
castellated stone dwelling, from which one catches
glimpses, far off, of blue Monadnock and many New
England towns, sparkling white on the slopes of
azure hills.

Past Haverhill winds the placid Merrimack, now
made classic by the genius of Whittier. Born amid
the snows and springs of the White Mountains ; tak
ing tribute of many crystal streams as it flows south;
its mountain brawling hushed by a plunge through
the deeps of beautiful Winnepesaukee ; sliding
through the grassy meadows of Concord studded
with elms ; fretting and chafing among the rapids of
Suncook and Hookset ; turning successively the
wheels of the huge mills of Manchester, Nashua,
Lowell, and Lawrence ; passing by Haverhill, New-
bury, Amesbury, the mouth of the winding and nar
row Powow, the silver Quasycung, and the bough-
hung Artichoke, and at its mouth separating .the
towns of Newburyport and Salisbury, — it finally falls
into the sea at Ipswich Bay.

It is about seventeen miles from Haverhill, down
the river, to Newburyport ; and about half way down
lies Amesbury, at the junction of the Powow with
the main stream. Amesbury was the home of
Whittier for twenty-five years ; and he still owns his
house there, and keeps in it a study, with a few
books and pictures and an open fire, as a place of
retreat, and for the sake of many precious memories.
A horse-railroad connects Amesbury with Newbury-

12 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

port, the birthplace of William Lloyd Garrison. As
you go down, you look across at the wide and far-
reaching salt meadows of Hampton, emerald green
in summer, and purple and brown in autumn. About
half way from Amesbury to the sea, your horse-car
trundles across Deer Island, — wild, rugged, and
picturesque, its huge one-handed pines griping the
weather-stained granite with knotty fingers, their
branches the resting-place of hawks and crows,
eagles and herons. The only house on the island is
the home of Whittier's friend, Harriet Prescott Spof-
ford.

Off the mouth of the river, Plum Island lies " like
a whale aground." Off to the northeast are discern
ible the Isles of Shoals, whose fair Calypso (Celia
Thaxter) is said to have been introduced to the world
of letters by Whittier. On the rocks of Appledore
he has often sat, of an evening, to watch the gold-
lamps kindled in the lighthouses of Portsmouth and
White Island. Indeed, this whole sea-region — Hamp
ton beaches, Rivermouth Rocks, Plum Island, the
Isles of Shoals — has been sung by Whittier in his
classic ballads. He is familiar with almost every
acre of this part of Essex County. Some lines he
wrote in 1885, for the 25oth anniversary of the settle
ment of Newbury, would apply to half a dozen other
neighboring towns as well. He said : " Although I
can hardly call myself a son of the ancient town, my
grandmother, Sarah Greenleaf, of blessed memory,
was its daughter, and I may therefore claim to be its
grandson. All my life I have lived in sight of its
green hills and in hearing of its Sabbath bells. Its
history and legends are familiar to me. I seem to

ON THE FARM. 13

have known all its old worthies, whose descendants
have helped to people a continent, and who have
carried the name and memories of their birthplace to
the Mexican Gulf and across the Rocky Mountains
to the shores of the Pacific."

When, in early boyhood, Whittier first read the
poetry of Burns, and learned from it where to look
for true poetic material, — namely, in the common
heart and the common life, — he found a store of
legends ready to his hand, in the homes of the
inhabitants of the Merrimack Valley, just as
Burns had found them on the banks of the Ayr.
Burns tells us that, when he was a boy, his imagina
tion was greatly stimulated by the talk of an old
woman who resided in the family. She had the
largest collection in the country of tales and songs
concerning devils, ghosts, fairies, brownies, witches,
warlocks, spunkies, kelpies, elf-candles, dead-lights,
wraiths, apparitions, cantrips, giants, enchanted
towers, dragons, and other trumpery. So Whittier
grew up in an atmosphere thick with legends of the
marvelous, — stories of headless men walking about
with their heads under their arms ; traditions
of second-sight ; of witches innumerable and their
wicked deeds ; of haunted mills kept running
o' nights by ghostly millers ; of phantom ships and
spectral armies ; of singing witch-grass at the spring
" where withered hags refresh at ease their broom
stick nags " ; and of wizards skilled in calling birds
out of trees, hiving the swarming bees, and by
a potent spell making the dry logs and frosted
branches of winter green with summer bloom. I
shall speak, farther on, of the pretty superstition of

14 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

telling the bees of the death of a member of the
family. The belief in fairies was by no means extinct
in the Whittier neighborhood. The poet has several
folk-lore incidents about them in his prose and
verse.

One cannot open any early book published in
Newbury without coming across queer legends and
superstitions. In the Reminiscences of Mrs. Sarah
Emery, we are told that her aunt, Ruth Little, had a
heifer that one day kicked over the milk-pail, where
upon she declared that the animal was bewitched by
a poor woman who lived near. So off she rushes to
the house, gets her sharp shears, and, cutting off some
hairs from the heifer's tail, burns them. In a few
days it was learned that the suspected woman had
badly burned her hand on the warming-pan. Aunt
Ruth stoutly maintained that the burning of the hei
fer's hair and that of the woman's hand were cause
and effect, and, in her mind at least, no doubt
remained as to the woman's character.

Of a certain extremely thin and gaunt spinster,
reported witch, it was mysteriously whispered to Mr.
Whittier by one of the pall-bearers at her funeral
that her coffin was so heavy that four stout men could
barely lift it.

Mr. Whittier tells of a stout, red-nosed farmer
whom he used to meet occasionally in boyhood, who,
having emigrated to Ohio, and taken a certain widow
to wife, became gradually convinced that the warn
ings he had received from her neighbors were true,
and that his wife was a witch. He grew so hypo-
chondriacal over this idea that, unable any longer to
endure her society, he ran away and came back to

ON THE FARM. 15

New England, but was followed, captured, and taken
back to Ohio by the too-fond wife.

Near the home of the mother of our poet, in Som-
ersworth, New Hampshire, there dwelt a quiet old
Quaker, named Bantum, who exercised, in all sim
plicity and sobriety, the art of magic and conjury.
His help was sought by lovers of both sexes and by
persons in search of stolen goods. He would receive
them all kindly, put on his huge iron-rimmed spec
tacles, open his conjuring-book — a great clasped vol
ume in blackletter — and give the required answers
without money and without price.

I am indebted to a friend for calling my attention
to an incident related of Daniel Webster's early life,
which is explained by the above anecdote. When
Prof. Francis Lieber visited Webster in 1845, Webster
told him that, when he was a lad in New Hampshire,
a friend of his father's seriously advised him (Daniel)
to become a sorcerer, as they needed one to recover
stolen cattle, children, etc.

Mr. Whittier tells some amusing stories of old Aunt
Morse who lived at Rocks Village near Amesbury.
He says that one of his earliest recollections is of this
reputed witch, who was accused of preventing the
coming of the butter in the churn, snuffing out can
dles at huskings and quilting parties, and even of
more serious injuries. One night, he says, there was
a husking at Rocks Village, and about the middle of
the evening a big black bug came buzzing into the
room and kept bumping against the faces of the
merry huskers. At last it was knocked down with a
stick ; and about the same time Aunt Morse, who
was at home, fell downstairs and got covered with

l6 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

bruises. But the buskers stoutly affirmed that the
black bug was Aunt Morse, and that the places where
she was bruised were where she had been struck by
the stick. A certain old Captain Peaslee who lived
near her covered his house and barns all over with
horseshoes to ward off her evil influence. She at last
became so annoyed by this silent persecution that
she went to a justice of the peace and took oath that
she was a Christian woman and no witch.1 But it
seems that her undeserved reputation followed her
even into the grave, as the following story by our
poet — not included in his collected works — will show:

" After the death of Aunt Morse no will was found, though
it was understood before her decease that such a document
was in the hands of Squire S., one of her neighbors. One cold
winter evening, some weeks after her departure, Squire S. sat
in his parlor, looking over his papers, when, hearing some one
cough in a familiar way, he looked up, and saw before him a
little crooked old woman, in an oil-nut colored woolen frock,
blue and white tow and linen apron, and striped blanket, lean
ing her sharp, pinched face on one hand, while the other sup
ported a short black tobacco pipe, at which she was puffing in
the most vehement and spiteful manner conceivable.

" The squire was a man of some nerve ; but his first thought
was to attempt an escape, from which he was deterred only by
the consideration that any effort to that effect would necessa
rily bring him nearer to his unwelcome visitor.

" ' Aunt Morse,' he said at length, ' for the Lord's sake, get

1 For this story I am indebted to an article in " Harper's Maga
zine," February, 1883, by George M1. White. Mr. White has,
however, got " Morse " somehow changed into " Mose." I here
take pleasure in acknowledging my obligations to the same writer
for several other interesting anecdotes, published in the periodical
just mentioned.

ON THE FARM. Ij

right back to the burying-ground ! What on earth are you here
for?'

" The apparition took her pipe deliberately from her mouth,
and informed him that she came to see justice done with her
will ; and that nobody need think of cheating her, dead or
alive. Concluding her remark with a shrill emphasis, she re
placed her pipe, and puffed away with renewed vigor. Upon
the squire's promising to obey her request, she refilled her
pipe, which she asked him to light, and then took her depart
ure."

The first of the Whittiers to come to America was
Thomas Whittier,1 of whom two noteworthy inci
dents are recorded, — first, that he brought with him
a hive of bees ; and, second, that he declined to make
use of the garrison house of Haverhill as a defense
against the Indians, preferring to rely on kind treat
ment of them and on faith in the Lord. John Green-
leaf Whittier's paternal grandmother was of the
Greenleaf family, of Newbury, highly respected for
integrity of character and religiousness of life. It is
recorded of Prof. Simon Greenleaf, professor of law
at Harvard College, 1833-1845, that he was one of the
most spiritually-minded of men, and very benevolent
and kind-hearted. He published some dozen works.
His son married a sister of the poet Longfellow. One
of the English Greenleafs took part with the Round
heads in all the wars of the English Revolution ;
while in this country the old records tell of a Captain
Stephen Greenleaf, of Newbury, who, in pursuing a
party of Indians up the Merrimack in 1695, got shot

1 The word Whittier is a corruption of white-tawier, the verb
" to taw" meaning to dress the lighter skins of goats and kids,
and then whiten them for the glover's use.
2

l8 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

in the wrist and side, and lost, in consequence, the
use of his left hand. The moose-skin coat he wore is
still preserved. It is believed that the Greenleafs are
of Huguenot descent, and that their name has been
translated from the French Feuillevert.

Whittier's father and mother were both of Quaker
stock, and were themselves, also, it is needless to say,
members of the Society of Friends. On his mother's
side the poet is descended from the Quaker Husseys
of Somersworth and Hampton, New Hampshire, and
from those who were among the founders of Nan-
tucket. Through his mother he is also descended from
the Rev. Stephen Batchelder of Hampton, New Hamp
shire, the eccentric parson, noted for his philoprogen-
itiveness and for his wonderful black eyes, bequeathed
by him not only to Whittier, but also to other descend
ants of his, — Daniel Webster, Caleb Gushing, Col.
William Batchelder Greene, and William Pitt Fessen-
den. Stephen Batchelder also gave to all those just
mentioned their massive features and swarthy, Orien
tal complexions. At the time of Daniel Webster's
subservient Southern tour, Garrison suggested that
his complexion might have caused him to be arrested
as a runaway slave and sold to pay his jail fees.

He was nicknamed " Black Dan " ; and of his father,
Captain Webster, it was humorously said that burnt
powder could not change his complexion in battle.
"The Bachiler eye" is dark and deep-set under heavy
eye-brows, inscrutable in depth, now shooting out
sudden gleams of lightning, and now suffused with the
lambent fire of tender emotion. Webster was known
in the village of Fryeburg as "All-eyes " ; one speaks
of his eye as being as black as death and as heavy as

ON THE FARM. ig

a lion's ; Carlyle, as in all his portraits, gives one 01
two Velasquez-strokes, and behold the thing done
once and forever ! Describing Webster, he speaks of
"the dull black eyes under the precipice of brows,
like dull anthracite furnaces, needing only to be
blown." The poet Whittier's glance has not ordina
rily anything of that indignation which Carlyle noticed
in Webster, though beyond a doubt, when he is
aroused by injustice, or by oppression of man by his
fellow-man, his face is capable of expressing (in a
momentary flash) the fierce scorn and righteous
wrath of the prophet.

This expression is caught in a well-known por
trait of him taken during the anti-slavery days. Hav
ing once seen him, one can well understand what he
himself once related, — how that when some rough
fellows threatened him, as he came out of an anti-
slavery meeting, he turned and faced them, and so
holding their eyes went out.

The family life of the Whittiers on the old farm
was made delightful, notwithstanding the hard work,
by the perpetual cheerfulness, humor, and wit, and
calm and trustful piety of all its members. The
cheeriness of atmosphere is insisted on with empha
sis by all acquaintances of the family. They were
not poor for farmers in those days, although they had
to stretch the strap pretty hard, and " pull the devil
by the tail " pretty vigorously, in order to make both
ends meet. The farm (bought for $600, borrowed
money) yielded nearly every article of food consumed,
as well as the flax and wool spun and woven by the
diligent mother into cloth for their home-made

20 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

clothes. Yet the finances of the household did not per
mit the owning of rich robes and furs, and there were
no ulsters in those days, and warm flannels were little
worn, so that our young poet says he often suffered
bitterly from the cold, especially in those long drives
to the Friends' Meeting-House eight miles away, in
Amesbury. The reading matter of the family con
sisted of a few religious books, the almanac, and a
local weekly newspaper. In Whittier's boyhood the
whipping-post and stocks were still to be seen at
Newburyport, and he was one day shown in Salem
the tree on which the witches were hanged. People
were mostly their own doctors then. If a tooth was
to be pulled, you must go either to a physician or to
a horse-doctor. I have been told of a horse-doctor
down East who, when the trembling victim, seated
in a chair, was ruefully eying his rude instruments of
torture, always used to say consolingly: " Don't ye be
scared now. If I break your jah, I '11 give ye my
oxen! " The Whittiers were very hospitable, and
the little farm-house was always sought by Friends
in their travels to and from the annual meetings and
conventions. It is recorded that as many as sixteen
were entertained at one time. Other guests less wel
come, but not the less uniformly provided for, were
the " old stragglers," as they called them, whose visits
were so regular that their orbits could be accurately
calculated. Speechless beggars; guasi-lame beggars;
bearded herb-doctors; peddlers with wild hairy faces
peeping from under enormous packs; an old Edie
Ochiltree, who was poet, parson, doctor, and mendi
cant in one; a drunkard-parson; horse-thief beggars;
fierce and well-bodied gaberlunzies, who ordered their

ON THE FARM. 21

cider and meat with terrifying gestures and looks
(when the "men-folks" were absent); Italian wan
derers; Scotch strollers; and many a withered bel
dame of the gipsy fraternity, — they were all sure of
a nice free farmer's luncheon at Quaker Whycher's;
for very rarely would the too kind-hearted mother turn
one away, and, if she did, was sure afterwards to be
smitten with remorse. In Mrs. Emery's recollections
of life in Newbury we get a glimpse of the same old
stragglers. She tells us, for example, of an old lame
peddler named Urin, who used to stump into her
father's house, usually at dusk, with his bag and
basket, and, dropping into the nearest chair, declare
he was " e'en a'most dead " he was so lame and tired.
Then, without stopping to take breath, he would reel
off, " Tree fell on me when I was a boy, killed my
brother and me jest like him, here's books, pins,
needles, black sewing-silk all colors, tapes, varses,
almanacks, and sarmons, here 's varses on the pirate
that was hung on Boston Common, the 'lection sar-
mon when the guv'ner took the chair, ' Whittington's
Cat,' ' Pilgrim's Progress,' " etc.

Of course in a back-farm neighborhood on the
Merrimack there was no hint in those early days of
the colonial magnificence of old Salem and Boston,
or even of Newburyport; no old-family balls, rich
foreign dresses, gay knee-buckled gallants, East India
punch-bowls, mahogany furniture, or stately equi
pages or costly libraries. And especially in a Quaker
family was everything of the plainest and severest.
Carpets were unknown As a substitute the floors
were from time to time scrubbed or strewn with fresh
white sand. They must have had stout nerves in those

22 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

days to endure the gritting and grating of sand under
their feet. When the old Holmes manse was being
torn down in Cambridge, I remember noticing that
the foot-deep spaces between the joists underneath
the floor of one upstairs room were completely filled
with white sand that had for generations sifted
through the cracks. It is to be understood that the
great kitchen fireplace formed the magnet of the
farm-house, and around it on winter evenings clus
tered all the poetry of the young people's life. Here
the nuts were cracked, the cider was drunk, the axe-
handle whittled out, stockings knit and stories told;
and not a boy or a man but was familiar with the
mysteries of green back-log, dry back-stick, fore-
stick, split-wood, cat-stick, and kindling-chips; and,
particularly in prosaic Quaker Whittier's house, to
understand how successfully to build the kitchen fire
was considered of vastly more importance than to
know how to build the lofty rhyme.

Then there were frequent nutting expeditions, fish
ings, flower-gatherings, quilting parties, and husking
bees, when —

" We laughed round the corn-heap, with hearts all in tune,
Our chair a broad pumpkin, — our lantern the moon,"

as Whittier sings. And good Aunt Mercy, the
mother's sister, in her spotless Quaker cap, — what
absolutely de-licious pumpkin pies she used to
make ! " None sweeter or better e'er smoked from
an oven or circled a platter ! "

" O fruit loved of boyhood ! the old days recalling,

When wood-grapes were purpling and brown nuts were falling !

ON THE FARM. 23

What moistens the lip and what brightens the eye,
What calls back the past, like the rich pumpkin pie ? "

—Whittier.

On First-days the old one-horse shay was got out,
and father and mother drove off to meeting, some
times taking one of the children with them. There,
while their Puritan neighbors were wrestling with
the " long nineteenthlies poured downward from the
sounding-board," they sat in silence, worshiping God
often with the heart alone. As for John Greenleaf,
he says he thinks he generally preferred to worship in
the fields in those days, being in this respect like his
Quaker friend Mary Howitt, who says in her recently
published autobiography that the only thing she
enjoyed in the horribly plain old meeting-house
of her childhood was looking at the reflection of
certain windows in a certain other window, and
imagining that the reflected ones were the windows
of heaven. Sabbath afternoons the mother gathered
her children about her, like the good man in the
" Cotter's Saturday Night," and read and expounded
a portion of Scripture. It was in order to be nearer
the little Friends' " Meeting" that she removed to
Amesbury after the death of her husband and the sale
of the farm in 1840. A beautiful character — the mother;
serene, dignified, benign, practical, and fond of reading
the best books. A neighbor, speaking of her natural
refinement, says that whenever she saw him she always
politely inquired for the health of himself and
mother : " How do thee do, Charles ? — and how is
thy mother?"1 Mrs. Whittier died in 1857 at
Amesbury, the tender and intimate relation between

Underwood's " Whittier," p. 48.

24 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

herself and her poet-son having never been in the
least degree weakened. To such a mother a son
owes more than can be expressed. An excellent
picture of her is given in Mr. Francis H. Underwood's
careful work on Whittier, and an oil-portrait hangs
in the little parlor at Amesbury.

John Whittier, the father of the poet (or " Quaker
Whycher," as he was called by some of his neigh
bors), was a rough, decisive, but kind-hearted and
devout man. He was several times in the public
service of the town of Haverhill (selectman, e. g.),
and was intimate with its prominent men, such as
the Minots, the Wingates, and the Bartletts. He was
often called upon to act as arbitrator in matters of
dispute between neighbors. He is included in the
portrait gallery in " Snow-Bound." He married
Abigail Hussey when he was forty-four, and John
Greenleaf, their second child, was born three years
later. The father died in 1832, tenderly cared for to
the last by his children.

Mr. Whittier's only brother, Matthew Franklin
Whittier, was for many years a resident of Boston.
His humorous verses and satirical dialect articles,
signed " Ethan Spike, from Hornby," were mostly
contributed to the Portland " Transcript," but some
of them to Boston papers. I should not advise any
one to take the trouble to hunt them up. They prove
incontestably that but one genius is born in a family.
Matthew died at the age of seventy, at the Maverick
House in East Boston, January 7, 1883, after a long
and painful illness, leaving a wife and three children,
and grandchildren. Until a few months before his
death he had been a clerk in the Naval Department

ON THE FARM 25

of the Boston Custom House, — his service covering a
period of thirteen years, — and his retirement was
made the occasion of a formal testimonial of esteem
from his fellow-clerks, among whom he was very
popular for his cheery humor. He is described as
having been " very different from his brother," in
many characteristics. He did not use the Quaker
mode of speech, — its " thee's " and "thou's." He
was an omnivorous reader, and, like his brother, an
out-and-out anti-slavery man. He was associated
with B. P. Shillaber in the attempt to float that
unfortunate journalistic craft, the "Carpet Bag."
He resided for many years in Portland, where he was
book-keeper for certain mercantile houses, and
where he married Miss Jane Vaughn. " Frank,'' as
his associates called him, was, like his brother,
inclined to seclusion, yet had the same geniality and
quaint, quiet humor. Mr. Charles O. Stickney J once
asked him of his relation to his brother the poet.
" * The only relationship existing between John
Greenleaf Whittier and myself,' said he, in solemn
deliberative tones, * is, we each had the same father
and the same mother.'"

Aunt Mercy was a person of great sweetness and
refinement of nature and of a playful disposition.
She removed with the family to Amesbury, and died
there in 1846. She was betrothed in her youth, says
Mr. S. T. Pickard,2 to a young man every way

1 Inthe Boston " Evening Transcript," January 2, 1892, where a
specimen of Ethan Spike's comic writing is given, with references.

2 In the Portland " Transcript." Mr. Pickard's wife is Whittier's
niece, and Mr. Pickard himself is the nephew of Joshua Coffin,
Whittier's old schoolmaster.

26 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

worthy of her, but not a member of the Friends'
society. Late one evening, as she sat musing by the
fire, after all the rest had gone to bed, she felt
mysteriously impelled to go to the window and look
out, and in a moonlit space under the trees she
saw a horse and rider coming down the hill toward
the house. She recognized her lover. He drew rein
at the yard entrance, and she went out at once to
meet him. While she was unbolting the door in the
little porch, she happened to turn her head to look
out of the window opposite her, and plainly saw her
lover on his horse ; but, when the door was opened,
no trace of man or horse was to be seen. Bursting
into tears, she called up Mrs. Whittier, and told her
story. Her sister said, " Thee had better go to bed,
Mercy ; thee has been asleep and dreaming by the
fire." But Mercy was sure she had not been asleep ;
and, in afterwards recalling the circumstances of the
vision, she remembered that she had heard no sound of
hoofs. Some time after she received a letter from a
distant city, stating that her lover had died on
the very day and hour of her ghostly visitation !
This is the story of Aunt Mercy, as told in the
family.

Whittier's elder sister, Mary, married Mr. Jacob
Caldwell, at one time publisher of the Haverhill
" Gazette." She died in 1861.

A member of the household who was beloved by
all the children was Uncle Moses Whittier, " innocent
of books, but rich in lore of fields and brooks," — a
sort of Rollo-book Jonas, " a tall, plain, sober man,"
far less stout than the father of the household. His
portrait, like that of all the others, is drawn in

ON THE FARM. 27

"Snow-Bound." His tragic death in 1824 has often
been mentioned by writers on Whittier. He had
gone out in the morning with his axe to cut wood,
turning into a path on the right of the Haverhill road.
He was missed at dinner time, and presently his dog
came up to the house barking frantically, and then
off again to the woods. The unfortunate man was
found under a fallen tree. In attempting to get to
the ground a lodged tree he had cut, he felled the
one on which it rested, and the two dropping at the
same time, and taking unexpected directions, he was
caught and pinned to the ground by one of them.
He lived but a short time after being taken home,
and was buried on a bitter winter's day in the little
family burial-lot a few rods from the house.

Of the poet's sister, Elizabeth, it seems almost pro
fanation to speak at all, so sacred was the bond
between the two. Yet a few words may help readers
of her poems, " Hazel Blossoms," to enjoy them
better. She was her brother's intellectual com
panion, his critic and his guardian angel both, and a
co-worker with him in the cause of the slave. When
in good health, she is said to have been gay-hearted.
Her Batchelder eyes were large and wondrous deep,
looking from under a broad, noble brow. The crayon
sketch of her face in the Amesbury parlor wears a
smile of sweetness and patience. She had a vivid
imagination, and was a delightful story-teller. Says
an acquaintance of hers, " She sometimes visited
at my father's house, and all of us children used to
climb upon the bed of an invalid sister and listen,
rapt, to Elizabeth, who, sitting at the foot, told us
stories by the hour." Says Mrs. Harriet Prescott

28 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

Spofford:1 "Mr. Whittier's sister Elizabeth, sym
pathizing with him completely, of a rare poetic
nature and fastidious taste, and of delicate dark-eyed
beauty, was long a companion that must have made
the want of any other less keenly felt than by lonely
men in general. The bond between the sister and
brother was more perfect than any of which we have
known, except that between Charles and Mary
Lamb; and in this instance the conditions were of
perfect moral and mental health. To the precious-
ness of the relationship the pages of the poet bear
constant witness, and Amesbury Village is full of
traditions of their affection, and of the gentle loveli
ness and brilliant wit of Elizabeth, whom the people
admired and reverenced almost as much as they do
the poet himself." At the time of her death in 1864
a Newburyport paper said: "The tidings of the
death of Elizabeth Whittier went to the hearts of
many in this community with a pang like that of
personal loss. Regard for the delicacy of a nature
that held itself shrinkingly aloof from publicity for
bids more than a passing tribute to its rare loveli
ness." Miss Whittier had been a semi-invalid for
some years, and for a few months before her death
her sufferings were extreme.

Perhaps one should not take leave of the house
hold of " Snow-Bound " without a few words on the
" not unfeared, half-welcome guest," whose portrait is
so well drawn by Whittier, — namely, the self-styled
pilgrim-stranger with a violent temper, the half-

1 In a valuable article in " Harper's Magazine " for January,
1884, to which I am indebted for facts used in this volume.

ON THE FARM. 29

crazy religious enthusiast and evangelist, Harriet
Livermore : —

" She blended in a like degree
The vixen and the devotee,
Revealing with each freak or feint

The temper of Petruchio's Kate,
The raptures of Siena's saint.
Her tapering hand and rounded wrist
Had facile power to form a fist ;
The warm dark languish of her eyes
Was never safe from wrath's surprise."

In 1884 a distant kinsman of Harriet Livermore
(the Rev. S. T. Livermore of Bridgewater, Massachu
setts) published a little book about her, as a vindica
tion of her character from what he morbidly conceives
to be the distorted account given by Mr. Whittier
in " Snow-Bound. " He calls the " epithets heaped
upon her " in that poem " an assault upon a pious
female's character," and the portrait of her 4< a cruel
caricature," and hints that he would like to use the
" flexors and extensors of his right arm in her protec
tion." The item about her visiting Lady Hester
Stanhope in Palestine, and

" Startling on her desert throne
The crazy Queen of Lebanon
With claims fantastic as her own,"

he pronounces to be " a slanderous myth, "and quotes
Missionary Thompson, author of " The Land and the
Book," as saying that the statement of the person
who informed Mr. Whittier that Harriet Livermore
was at one time head of a Bedouin tribe " is a lie."

We shall, further on, find the Rev. Mr. Livermore
attempting to whitewash the Ethiopian skins of the

30 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

old Block Island wreckers. A good strong infusion
of positive wickedness, sparkling at the eyes, is his
abhorrence, and rightly so in real life. The poet,
too, abhors it. But the antithesis of right and
wrong, light and darkness, is needed in art. That it
furnishes the dramatic contrast and shading indis
pensable to a poet is no concern of Mr. Livermore's,
he thinks, and he indignantly asks why we are not
presented with a list of Harriet Livermore's virtues.
It is curious that nearly every authority brought into
court by him to prove his fanatical female relative a
saint only serves to fix more ineffaceably the colors
of Whittier's portrait of her. He entirely ignores,
also, the benignant spirit of the poet, who adds to
his sketch twenty-seven lines of charitable excuses
for her failings: —

" Where'er her troubled path may be,

The Lord's sweet pity with her go !
The outward wayward life we see ;

The hidden springs we may not know.
Nor is it given us to discern

What threads the fatal sisters spun,

Through what ancestral years has run
The sorrow with the woman born," etc.

The following interesting letter by Mr. Whittier
was written in answer to inquiries on the subject: '—

DANVERS, MASS., 9th mo., 18, 1879.

DEAR FRIEND, — Harriet Livermore, when I was a young
boy, was for some considerable time a resident of Rocks Vil-

1 Livermore's " Harriet Livermore," p. 15. Another good
authority on Harriet Livermore is the booklet of Miss Rebecca I.
Davis, of East Haverhill.

ON THE FARM. 31

lage, Haverhill ; I think a visitor of Dr. Weld's in that place,
and was often at our house — a brilliant, dark-eyed woman —
striking in her personal appearance and gifted in conversation.
The tradition of her disappointment [in love] was current in
our neighborhood, and the name of the gentleman was Dr.
Elliot, of the U. S. Army, who, I think, died in Florida, or in
some part of the extreme South. He was Haverhill born.

After boyhood I never saw her until she came to see me at
Philadelphia, on her return from the East, in 1829 [1839]. I
interested myself with J. R. Chandler, and others, to get an
audience for two lectures by her. She gave one, and declined
to give the other because the audience was smaller than the
first. She spent some days at my boarding-house, alternating
from an agreeable and interesting guest to a violent-tempered
woman of indomitable will. She told us of her stay with Lady
Hester Stanhope, and that Lady H. S. kept two white horses
with a red mark on the back of each in the shape of a saddle,
ready waiting for the coming of the Lord — one of them to be
ridden by herself to Jerusalem. It seems that H. L. insisted
that she was to accompany the Lord on the spare horse ; and
therefore a quarrel arose which ended in their separation.

The lecture procured her, I believe, about $150. She said
she must go back to Jerusalem and meet the coming there.
Even then she was a noble-looking woman.

A friend of mine, years afterwards, met her in Syria, with a
fragment of a Bedouin tribe, of which she was the head — its
spiritual and temporal chief. I do not think I have exaggerated
her character in " Snow-Bound." I certainly did not intend to.

Thy friend,

JOHN G. WHITTIER.

It is not desirable to go minutely into the story of
Harriet Livermore's life here, — of her early education
by her father, the Hon. Edward St. Loe Livermore,
judge and United States Senator ; of her dis
appointment in love ; her temper ; her teaching in

32 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

the Whittier neighborhood ; her authorship of relig
ious books ; or how she charmed the social circles
of Washington by her beauty and brilliancy, and,
later, when an evangelist, preached in the House of
Representatives with such eloquence that many were
moved to tears and sobs. Her portrait shows an ex
quisitely moulded face, and wide, wild eyes, though
it does not show the wealth of moist raven-black hair
which once adorned her head. At one time she had
a crazy notion of preaching to the Indians, and
actually made her way as far as Fort Leavenworth, —
as she says, " urging her way to the West, undis
mayed by cholera, sand-bars, or floating timbers,
commissioners, or the Devil." Here is a stanza of a
hymn she wrote for her imaginary Indians : —

" I'll tell them whiskey to forsake,
Crying 'tis Satan's bait to kill.
Oh, Choctaw, Cherokee, come take
Pure water from the forest rill ! "

She made four or five trips to Jerusalem, the first
in 1836. In 1841 she was living in part of a house
owned by a Gibraltar Jew, near Hezekiah's Pool.
She was given food by the Protestant missionaries.
Dr. Selah Merrill, American Consul in Jerusalem in
1883 (who got his information from those who had
known her there), wrote that " she was very irritable
and exacting, and would often insult people in their
houses or in the streets." She was well known to be
crack-brained, and was not allowed to preach in
Jerusalem. Dr. Van Dyke, who was living in Jeru
salem, says she told him one day that she had spent
the previous Sunday in an olive-tree on the Mount of
Olives. She also thought that she and Joseph Wolff

ON THE FARM. 33

were the two witnesses of Revelation xi., and identi
fied Bonaparte with Mehemet AH.

Mr. Livermore's attempt to discredit the statement
of Mr. Whittier as to the Lady Hester Stanhope story
is not at all successful. It all reduces to this : she
could not have visited that lady, he thinks, because
she was in Palestine only a month on the occasion of
her first trip. But this is no argument. Lady Hester
lived only eight miles from Sidon, in her mountain
villa of Djoun, and Mr. Livermore admits that the
American pilgrim passed through Sidon, either on
her journey to Jerusalem or on her return to take
ship at Beirut. A day or two at Djoun would have
afforded more than sufficient opportunity for these
two half-crazy and high-stomached dames to see that
they could not dwell under the same roof. Dr. Van
Dyke says he would have given his little finger to
have witnessed the meeting between the two, although
he does not think they did actually meet. " It would
have been diamond cut diamond, — the haughty
aristocratic Englishwoman and the fearless re
publican." The truth of the incident is attested by
Mr. Whittier, by a Mr. Thomas, who knew Miss
Livermore for years in Philadelphia,1 and by another
old acquaintance, who wrote an article on her for a
Philadelphia paper at the time of her death in 1867.

Lady Stanhope was a niece of Pitt, the English
Minister, and at his death she received a government
pension of ;£i, 200 annually. She died in Syria in 1839.
She inherited her wayward and imperious disposition
from her father. Her life, as revealed in her Mem
oirs and Travels, was certainly one of the most

1 See S. T. Livermore's book, p. 82.
3

34 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

romantic and eccentric ever lived by mortal. She
was withal benevolent in disposition, and often saved
the lives of fugitives in Syria. She had a stronger
character and a more versatile mind than had Harriet
Livermore. Her special hobby was her belief in the
coming of a Messiah and the ride to Jerusalem on
her pet mares ; and we may be sure that any
audacious handling of that theme by the pilgrim-
saint would have caused instant rupture of all rela
tions between them. A physician who was Lady
Stanhope's most trusted friend, who lived with her
at Djoun, and compiled the volumes of her Mem
oirs, gives a description of the famous mares ; but
neither he nor Dr. Wm. M. Thompson, who, after her
death, went up to bury her, and saw the favored
animals, says anything about the red spots like
saddles which are mentioned by Mr. Whittier in his
note. Neither was their color white, as Mr. Whittier
states.

It appears from the Memoirs that a village doctor
named Meta, on Mt. Lebanon, predicted that on the
coming of the " Mahedi " he would ride a horse born
saddled, and that " a woman would come from a far
country to partake in the mission." (This explains
how Harriet Livermore, as well as Lady Hester,
could plausibly lay claim to horse number two.)
Dr. Thompson, in " The Land and the Book " (i.
113), thus speaks of these wondrous steeds, com
pared with which the mares of Diomed, or that
Persian horse of brass on which the Tartar king
did ride, were naught in the eyes of Lady Hester : —

" She had a mare whose backbone sank suddenly
down at the shoulders and rose abruptly near the

ON THE FARM. 35

hips. This deformity her vivid imagination con
verted into a miraculous saddle, on which she was to
ride to Jerusalem as queen by the side of some sort
of Messiah, who was to introduce a fancied millen
nium. Another mare had a part to play in this august
pageant, and both were tended with extraordinary
care. A lamp was kept burning in their very comforta
ble apartments, and they were served with sherbet and
other delicacies." She lavished her choicest affections
on them for fourteen years.

She never suffered any one to mount them. The
hollow-backed one was a chestnut, named Laila, and
the other, Lulu, was a gray. They had each a groom,
and were daily exercised on a green plot of ground near
the house-wall. No servant was even allowed to look
at them while they were at exercise, on pain of being
dismissed from her service. She once said that in
her pecuniary trouble she would have quitted the
country, had it not been for these mares and her
desire to remain and see the outcome of the prophecy.
After her death, the poor creatures were soon worked
to death by the rapacious villagers.

There can scarcely be a doubt that the statement
made to Mr. Whittier and repeated in the latest edi
tion of " Snow-Bound" (1888)— that Harriet Liver-
more was at one time the spiritual and temporal head
of a fragment of a Bedouin tribe — is a mistake. A
poor and obscure fanatic, living almost wholly upon
charity in Jerusalem, would not have been accepted
by Arabs as their chief. This might have happened
if she had had abundance of money and power, like
Lady Stanhope, but not otherwise. Dr. Thompson,
with whom she lived for a time, denies the story in

36 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

toto, as we have seen. Still, there might have been a
slight basis of fact for it, — some momentary freak of
hers, like that attempt to take up her life among the
American Indians.

We may now give a glance at the outward sur
roundings of Whittier when a boy on the farm. In a
brief autobiographic paper, he relates that from the
top of " Job's Hill," which rose abruptly from the
brook that passed the house, he could see the blue
outline of the Deerfield mountains in New Hamp
shire, and the solitary peak of Agamenticus on the
coast of Maine. The valley of the Merrimack could
be traced by a long line of morning mist, and on the
breeze was borne from the village of Haverhill the
sound of its two church bells. The view of the house
from the road was once obscured by oak woods.
Not far away, on the cross-road stood one of those old
garrison houses which were formerly established in
New England towns for protection against the Indians.
Sometimes private houses were fortified and made to
serve as garrisons. Such was the one near the Whit-
tier farm. I condense two separate accounts given of
it by Mr. Whittier, — one in " Harper's Magazine " and
the other in his prose works. It was, says he, a
massive, venerable structure, built of solid oak logs,
with the walls double, and filled in with bricks be
tween. There was a double-thick plank door, made
bullet-proof and studded with iron nails. Over the
door and projecting from the second story was a
species of balcony, also of thick planks, with a bullet
proof breastwork around it, through which were cut
loopholes, so that the defenders could creep from the

ON THE FARM. 37

interior of the house and fire down upon those who
might be about the door. The windows were nar
row, and had small diamond-shaped panes, set in
lead. The door opened upon a stone-paved hall, or
entry, leading into the huge single room of the base
ment, which was lighted by two small windows, the
ceiling black with the smoke of a century and a half,
a huge fireplace, calculated for eight-foot wood, occu
pying one entire side ; while overhead, suspended
from the timbers, or on shelves fastened to them,
were household stores, farming utensils, fishing-rods,
guns, bunches of herbs gathered perhaps a century
ago, strings of dried apples and pumpkins, links of
mottled sausages, spareribs and flitches of bacon, the
firelight of an evening dimly revealing the checked
woolen coverlet of the bed in one far-off corner,
while in another shone the pewter plates on the
dresser.

This old relic was destroyed some years ago, —
more 's the pity, for it showed not the least sign of
decay, and would have been a thing of joy unspeak
able to antiquaries.

The birthplace of a man of genius is always worth
looking at, but is not so interesting as are the lares et
penates of his later years. It is not worth while to
gaze with rapture into the empty husk of the nut:
the kernel is the essential thing. Nevertheless, a
word once again on the old Quaker grange where the
best friend of the slave passed his boyhood. I sup
pose among those whose forbears were the original
settlers of New England one could count upon the
fingers of both hands the persons who, like Whittier,
lived until manhood in the house built by the founder

38 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

of their family in the New World. The old home at
Haverhill is over two hundred years old. It is a
severely plain, not to say ugly, old two-story box,
the rooms, like those of so many other similar houses
in New England (Thoreau's birthplace, for example),
having heavy beams running across the ceilings,
which are so low as to be easily touched. The front
door opens into a small, square entry, with steep
staircase. On the right is the room where Whitlier
used to study, — the salon of the old grange. Here he
used to sit by a bright wood fire, — the fireplace being
the one luxury he has always allowed himself, — ab
sorbed in the books and newspapers that covered a
little table in the centre of the ropm. A neighbor says
that he was a great reader : " He used to load me
down with papers for my father to read; he was as
good as a library." In the room on the opposite side
of the entry Whittier was born. In the rear is the
kitchen, with its enormous Old World fireplace, broad
enough to admit benches on each side, and with
accessories of brick oven and mantel-piece; here is the
inset cupboard where shone the pewter dishes; and
here yet are the broad-headed wrought-iron nail on
which hung the bull's-eye wratch, and the circle worn
on the wall by the warming-pan. The original barn
was behind the house, in a sheltered spot near the old
orchard. At the roadside is the stone horse-block,
built into the stone fence, and containing circular
depressions, made by generations of children crack
ing hickory-nuts and butternuts there. From the
boards of the original garret floor of the house boxes
and paper-weights are now made, and varnished pen
holders from the twigs of the great elm. In reply to

ON THE FARM. 39

a suggestion recently made by Miss Frances E. Wil-
lard, that the old homestead be bought from its
present owners and perpetually preserved in its pres
ent state, Mr. Whittier wrote: 1—

MY DEAR FRIEND, — I have just received thy note respect
ing the old Whittier homestead in Haverhill. I do not know
how to thank thee for thy interest in the matter. It is very
generous and noble on thy part. I am at present confined here
by illness, and have no certain knowledge of the willingness of
the owner to sell the property. I will be glad to have the old
place — the home built by my American ancestor more than
200 years ago — secured in the way proposed. I think the
Whittier Club of Haverhill might feel interested in the plan.
I will send them the extracts from the Chicago paper. If the
thing can be done without too much trouble, I shall be glad.
I will give $100 toward it.

I am most gratefully thy old friend,

JOHN G. WHITTIER.

Whittier first attended the district school when he
was a little chap in his seventh winter. The school-
houses of that time were warmed by a fireplace, the
wood for which was split and piled up and brought
in by the boys as needed. There were no writing-
books, but a strong coarse paper of foolscap size was
used, either in single sheets or the sheets stitched
together. Lead-pencils were unknown ; a chunky
plummet of lead was used instead, and it was usually
made at home and cut into various shapes to suit the
owner's taste. Whittier's first schoolmaster was
Joshua Coffin, who was teaching that winter in a pri
vate house, as the schoolhouse was undergoing re
pairs. This explains a mysterious passage in the

Letter published in the " Literary World," Feb. 4, 1888.

40 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

poem " To my Old Schoolmaster," in which we read
of the sound of the cradle-rock, and squall coming
through the cracked and crazy wall, and " the good-
man's voice at strife with his shrill and tipsy wife."
What young reader of Whittier has not racked his
brain, hitherto, for explanation of occurrences so
queer in a school? In succeeding winters little John
and his brother learned their lessons in the brown
schoolhouse that stood a half-mile from home, but is
now no more. For pictures of these school-days read
the poems " In School Days," " My Playmate,"
" Snow-Bound," " The Barefoot Boy," and the lines
mentioned above, " To my Old Schoolmaster."
Joshua Coffin was the poet's life-long friend. He was
born in Newbury in 1792, was graduated at Dart
mouth College in 1817. He became the historian of
Newbury, held various offices in that town, and was
one of the twelve resolute men who formed the first
anti-slavery society in New England (one stormy
night, in Boston). Some one speaks of Coffin as
" that huge and voluble personification of good
humor." His fine massive face is pictured in " Har
per's Magazine," July 25, 1875, together with a view
of his residence in Newburyport. He died in that
city in 1864.

In the first four of the autobiographic poems above
mentioned — which seem to me of unsurpassable
beauty in their kind — are found shy references to
school loves. Of course he had them. All poets
have. You remember Burns's first love ? — the bonnie,
sweet, sonsie lass, who initiated him into " that de
licious passion which, in spite of acid disappointment,
gin-horse prudence, and book-worm philosophy,"

ON THE FARM. 41

he held to be " the first of human joys, our dearest
blessing here below." Whittier's pines of Ramoth
Hill (an imaginary place), the song the veeries sang,
the violet-fringed mossy seat, the tangled golden
curls, the trembling voice, the falling blossoms, —
what yearning emotions, what strangely thrilling
memories, these beautiful verses excite !

The dawn of the poetic instinct came rather early,
through the accident of his becoming acquainted
with the poetry of Robert Burns. Here is the story
as he told it to Robert Collyer : ' —

" Whittier said to me " (writes Mr. Collyer), " ' I
hear thee is lecturing this winter on Burns. I should
like to hear thee. Burns is to me the noblest poet of
our race. He was the first poet I read, and he will
be the last. Our people did not care for poetry when
I was a boy. We had in our house an American
reader, quite popular at that time, in which I found
some pieces of the old school of singers; and, besides
that, we had a poem called the " Davideis," written
by a " Friend," and held in great esteem by our body.
But somehow these did not seem to touch me; they
were not what I wanted. One day one of our preach
ers came to stay all night; and noticing, as we sat by
the fire, that I was intent on a book, he said, " I will
read to thee, if thee likes, some poems by Robert
Burns. I have a copy with me." 3 So he got the book

1 See " Every Saturday," June 3, 1871.

2 In his autobiographic notes, Mr. Whittier states that it was
Joshua Coffin who first introduced him to Burns. He says: —

" When I was fourteen years old, my first schoolmaster, Joshua
Coffin, the able, eccentric historian of Newbury, brought with him
to our house a volume of Burns's poems, from which he read,

42 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

and began to read. It was the first I had heard of
Burns, and my wonder and delight over what I heard
is as fresh still as if it were yesterday. I had heard
nothing up to that moment, it seemed to me, that had
any right to be called poetry; and I listened as long
as the old man would read. I noticed he left the
book on the table, so I rose at gray dawn next morn
ing, and read for myself. I was hanging over the
book when the Friend came down, and then he told
me he was going farther, to visit such and such
meetings, would be back at such a time, and, if I
liked, would leave the book with me. Thee may be
sure I gratefully accepted his offer. I read Burns
every moment I had to spare. And this was one great
result to me of my communion with him: I found
that the things out of which poems came were not, as
I had always imagined, somewhere away off in a
world and life lying outside the edge of our own New
Hampshire sky, — they were right here about my feet

greatly to my delight. I begged him to leave the book with me
and set myself at once to the task of mastering the glossary of the
Scottish dialect at its close. This was about the first poetry I had
ever read, — with the exception of that of the Bible, of which I had
been a close student, — and it had a lasting influence upon me. I
began to make rhymes myself, and to imagine stories and adven
tures. In fact, I lived a sort of dual life, and in a world of fancy,
as well as in the world of plain matter of fact about me."

As Mr. Collyer's account was from memory, we must give the
preference to Mr. Whittier's deliberately written statement.

It should be noted that in one of his prose sketches Mr. Whittier
relates that he first heard words of Burns as uttered by an old
Scotch tramp, who, after eating his bread and cheese and drinking
his mug of cider, sang, with a full, rich voice and with spirit,
" Auld Lang Syne," " Bonnie Doon," and " Highland Mary."

ON THE FARM. 43

and among the people I knew. The common things
of our common life I found were full of poetry.'",

Mr. Collyer continues: " He told me also what such
a man only can say in good faith, that he could not
understand what the critics mean when they say
there are things in Burns not fit to be read, — things
impure and vile, the spume of a fallen spirit. * I
never found such things,' he said. * I read all Burns,
every line of him; and, while there is a difference, of
course, to me every line is good.' I know Whittier
could not have thought, as he told me this, that Paul
said once, 'To the pure all things are pure'; and how
purely true his commentary on Burns was to the
great old text! "

Mr. Whittier did not state his whole opinion of
Burns to Robert Collyer (conversation is so frag
mentary). We are not, of course, to understand that
he did not know and disapprove of Burns's peculiar
failing, did not know that "eating love inhabits in
the finest wits of all." This is clear from the follow
ing stanzas in his poem " Burns," written nearly
twenty years previous to the Collyer talk: —
" And if at times an evil strain,

To lawless love appealing,
Broke in upon the sweet refrain
Of pure and healthful feeling,
" It died upon the eye and ear,
No inward answer gaining;
No heart had I to see or hear

The discord and the staining !
" Let those who never erred forget
His worth, in vain bewailings ;
Sweet Soul of Song !— I own my debt
Uncancelled by his failings !"

44 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

" I began to make rhymes myself," he says. Let
us *ee to what purpose. In 1882 Mr. Whittier sent a
letter and poem to Friends in Chester, Pennsylvania,
who were commemorating the bicentennial of the
landing of Penn in America. The poem is not in
cluded in his collected works, latest edition,1 and
has not before appeared in a book. " Looking over
some old papers recently," writes the poet, " I found
some verses written by me when a boy of sixteen,
nearly sixty years ago. Of course the circumstances
under which they were penned alone entitle them to
notice, but I venture to send them as the only response
to .thy request which I can make."

WILLIAM PENN.
The tyrant on his gilded throne,

The warrior in his battle-dress,
The holier triumph ne'er have known

Of justice and of righteousness.
Founder of Pennsylvania ! Thou

Didst feel it, when thy words of peace
Smoothed the stern chieftain's swarthy brow,

And bade the dreadful war-dance cease.
On Schuylkill's banks no fortress frowned,

The peaceful cot alone was there ;
No beacon fires the hilltops crowned,

No death-shot swept the Delaware.
In manners meek, in precepts mild,

Thou and thy friends serenely taught
The savage huntsman, fierce and wild,

To raise to Heaven his erring thought.

1 Reference is had to the elegant " library " edition, published
by Houghton, Mifflin & Co. In this edition the poems are newly
grouped, and many of them are accompanied by new introductory
notes by Whittier.

ON THE FARM. 45

How all unlike the bloody band

That unrelenting Cortez led
To princely Montezuma's land,

And ruin 'round his pathway shed.

With hearts that knew not how to spare,

Disdaining milder means to try, —
The crimson sword alone was there :

The Indian's choice to yield or die.

But thou, meek Pennsylvanian sire,

Unarmed, alone, from terror free,
Taught by the heathen council fire

The lessons of Christianity,

Founder of Pennsylvania's State, —

Not on the blood-wet rolls of fame,
But with the wise, the good, the great,

The world shall place thy sainted name.
1824.

This is not stuff to be ashamed of. Pretty strong
verse for a novice ! And (with the exception of
verses, often of a humorous character, written on his
slate at school, and sometimes passed around by his
fellow-pupils somewhat against his will) they are the
first known poetry of his. There is a relish in them
of better things. His two years' study of Burns is
beginning to bear fruit. But now comes the second
important event in his literary life, — his discovery by
young William Lloyd Garrison, then editing a paper
in Newburyport. Garrison is described as being at
that time a neatly dressed youth, popular with young
ladies ; having rich dark-brown hair, forehead high
and very white, cheeks ruddy, lips full and sensitive,
wide hazel eyes, active movements, and a bright and
happy disposition.

46 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

Father Whittier had subscribed for Garrison's
" Free Press," and was much pleased with its human
itarian tone. Greenleaf's elder sister, Mary, had,
unknown to him, sent to the " Free Press " by .the
postman, in 1826, a poem of her brother's, probably
that called "The Deity."

One day, as he was mending stone fence by the
road, the postman threw him the family copy of the
"Free Press"; and he was dumfounded to find a
piece of his own in the poet's corner. He wrote
and sent others; but let William Lloyd Garrison him
self tell the story :—

" Going upstairs to my office, one day, I observed
a letter lying near the door, to my address ; which,
on opening, I found to contain an original piece of
poetry for my paper, the ' Free Press.' The ink was
very pale, the handwriting very small ; and having at
that time a horror of newspaper ' original poetry,' —
which has rather increased than diminished with
the lapse of time, — my first impulse was to tear it in
pieces without reading it, the chances of rejection
after its perusal being as ninety-nine to one ; . . .
but, summoning resolution to read it, I was equally
surprised and gratified to find it above mediocrity,
and so gave it a place in my journal. ... As I
was anxious to find out the writer, my post-rider one
day divulged the secret, stating that he had dropped
the letter in the manner described, and that it was
written by a Quaker lad named Whittier, who was
daily at work on the shoemaker's bench with hammer
and lapstone at East Haverhill. Jumping into a vehi
cle, I lost no time in driving [with a friend] to see the
youthful rustic bard, who came into the room with

ON THE FARM. 47

shrinking diffidence, almost unable to speak, and
blushing like a maiden. Giving him some words of
encouragement, I addressed myself more particularly
to his parents, and urged them with great earnest
ness to grant him every possible facility for the devel
opment of his remarkable genius." 1

Elsewhere Mr. Garrison writes : " I found him a
bashful boy covered with blushes, from whom scarcely
a word could be extracted."

It seems that young Whittier had been at work in
the field, and, on being called, he had come up to the
back door, and got on his coat and shoes, and
exchanged a few words with his callers, when the
father appeared on the scene.

" ' Is this friend Whittier ? '

"'Yes.'

" * We want to see you about your son.'

" 'Why,what has the boy been doing ? ' "(anxiously).

On learning that the crime was nothing more than
verse-making, his alarm was quieted. He informed
Mr. Garrison that the boy had been writing verse
almost as soon as he could write at all, and, when
pen and ink failed him, he would resort to chalk and
charcoal, — but all with so much secrecy that it was
only by removing some rubbish in the garret that his
concealed manuscripts had been brought to light.
When Garrison urged the father to give him an edu
cation, and allow him to follow his guiding star, the
father answered with deep emotion, " Sir, poetry will
not give him bread" and begged him not to put such
notions into his son's head.

1 Life of William Lloyd Garrison, by his children, i. 67.

48 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

Garrison's mouth was closed by what he himself
felt to be the truth of the old man's words, and he
took his leave.

But the seeds of ambition had been sown, a quench
less ardor set aflame in the young man's breast. It
seemed utterly out of the question for the father to
afford a single term's schooling away from home.
But Greenleaf set his wits to work. It happened
that the young man who helped on the farm in
summer was accustomed to make ladies' shoes and
slippers during the winter, and he agreed to instruct
Whittier in the mysteries of the "gentle craft of
leather," and thus enable him to get money for a
term of schooling at Haverhill Academy.

Behold, then, our deep-eyed, sunny-tempered lad
of genius seated on his bench amid shoemakers' wax,
bristles, pincers, paste-horns, rosin, and waxed ends !

" Rap, rap ! upon the well-worn stone

How falls the polished hammer !
Rap, rap ! the measured sound has grown
A quick and merry clamor.

" Now shape the sole ! now deftly curl

The glossy vamp around it,
And bless the while the bright-eyed girl
Whose gentle fingers bound it ! "

— Whittier.

He had probably known something of the art pre
viously, judging from Mr. Garrison's account above
quoted. For it was a common thing for some
member of every farm to mend the horses' harness
and make the home shoes. Garrison himself had,
when a boy, been apprenticed for a short time to the
shoe business in Lynn, and actually learned how to

ON THE FARM. 49

make a shoe. To these two illustrious shoemakers
add the names of Noah Worcester, Henry Wilson,
Roger Sherman (one of the signers of the Declara
tion of Independence), Jacob Boehmen, and many
others, whose lives are sketched in William E. Winks's
work on Illustrious Shoemakers.1 Coleridge, too,
had a great idea in his youth of turning shoemaker !
The introduction of machinery for making shoes has
now almost annihilated the old-style shoemaker with
leather apron and hands redolent of wax ; his place
is taken by the cutter and clicker and riveter and
machine-girl of the great factory, — more 's the pity !
Mr. Moses E. Emerson, who was one of Whittier's
teachers in the district school and lived for a year in
the Whittier family, gave, at the age of eighty-two,
some interesting reminiscences of his school-teaching
days. The occasion was the reunion in 1885 of the
class of 1827-30 of the Haverhill Academy. " Whittier
loved his fun and joke as well as the rest of us," said
he. " If my memory serves me rightly, Mr. Whittier,
with others on the farm, made shoes in one of those
little shops you see now at country farm-houses. I
remember that he used to sit on a low bench that
had a little draw2 at the side. When I have entered

1 This book can claim the proud preeminence of containing the
most atrocious caricature portrait of Whittier extant in the world,
the work, evidently, of a 24-carat donkey. It looks as if its sub
ject were afflicted with an aggravated case of mumps, and had
been stung about the eyes by yellow-jackets. No shoemaker
reading the book but would turn sadly away from any incip
ient intention he might have formed of purchasing Whittier's
poems.

2 A New England local expression for " drawer."

4

50 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

the shop for a chat with those I was sure to find
there, I remember that often Mr. Whittier would
pull out the little draw and hand me some loose
sheets of paper, with the poems he had [written] on
them during the day. He usually offered no com
ment, but continued steadily at his work." '

Whittier entered Haverhill Academy in April,
1827, and remained six months, returning home
every Friday evening. It was the first year of the
school's existence, and the building had never been
occupied. He wrote the dedicatory ode, and acquired
respect thereby. He roomed and boarded with the
family of Mr. A. W. Thayer, editor and publisher of
the Haverhill " Gazette." Numerous poems — some
of them in the Scotch dialect — were contributed by
him to this paper. Here is one composed a year or
two later, in imitation of Burns : a —

THE DRUNKARD TO HIS BOTTLE.

" Hoot ! — daur ye shaw ye're face again,
Ye auld black thief o' purse and brain ?
For foul disgrace, for dool an' pain

An' shame I ban ye :
Wae 's me, that e'er my lips have ta'en

Your kiss uncanny !

" Nae mair, auld knave, without a shillin'
To keep a starvin' wight frae stealin'
Ye'll sen' me hameward, blin' and reelin',

Frae nightly swagger,
By wall and post my pathway feelm1,

Wi' mony a stagger.

1 Boston Advertiser, 1885 (about September n).
9 From the library edition of the poems, 1888.

ON THE FARM. 51

" Nae mair o' fights that bruise an' mangle,
Nae mair o' nets my feet to tangle,
Nae mair o' senseless brawl an' wrangle,

Wi' frien' an' wife, too,
Nae mair o' deavin' din an' jangle

My feckless life through.

" Ye thievin', cheatin', auld Cheap Jack,
Peddlin' your poison brose, I crack
Your banes against rny ingle-back

Wi' meikle pleasure.
De'il mend ye i' his workshop black,

E'en at his leisure !
* * * * *

' Cock a' ye 're heids, my bairns fu' gleg,
My winsome Robin, Jean, an' Meg,
For food an' claes ye shall na beg

A doited daddie.

Dance, auld wife, on your girl-day leg,
Ye Ve foun' your laddie ! "

The master of the school, Oliver Carlton, could
with difficulty be made to believe that the first com
position handed in by Whittier had been written by
him without assistance. But the matter was soon
put beyond question by the production of many more
of equal or greater merit. The lad indulged in not a
single luxury this first winter; for at the end of the
half-year he still had the Mexican quarter of a dollar
which remained as surplus after he had calculated
and apportioned his expenses.1

The most important thing that happened to him
during this and the following year (for the next year
he taught school in West Amesbury and got enough

1 Underwood, p. 69.

52 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

money for another six months at the Academy) was
his being offered the use of two good private libra
ries. Genius without knowledge will go but a little
way. Whittier, like Abraham Lincoln and Henry
Wilson, wrested his intellectual education from
between the covers of books read often by stealth,
outside of college walls. And it is well. University
men are good, and field men and mountain men are
good. Great men, like great trees, grow far apart,
and draw their nutriment from a wide area of soil
and circumambient air. If they are to have a dis
tinctive savor, or race, they must be of different
species and grown on different soils. That the scho
lastic culture of Longfellow and Bryant and Lowell
was not Whittier's, or Whitman's, or Lincoln's, is the
world's gain. The daughter of Mr. Thayer of Hav-
erhill speaks of the great delight Whittier took in
reading books from her father's library, being often
so absorbed in thought that the noise of three chil
dren playing around him did not serve to drive him
from his pursuit. He was always an eager reader,
and would walk miles, he says, to borrow a book he
had heard of. The other library placed at his dis
posal in Haverhill was that of Dr. Elias Weld, the
"wise old doctor" of " Snow-Bound, " and the one to
whom " The Countess " is dedicated. " He was the
one cultivated man of the neighborhood," Mr. Whit
tier has said.

A fellow-student at the Academy, the Hon. Jackson
B. Street, has interesting remembrances of Whit
tier:—

" As I remember, he came in for recitations only,
and did his studying elsewhere. I can picture him

ON THE FARM. 53

now standing beside the master's desk, reciting in
a subdued tone. To my boyish fancy, the knowl
edge that he was gifted enough to write the ode read
at the dedication of the Academy, and also poems for
the village paper, raised him to a high place in my
estimation. His presence in the room had a great
attraction for all of us. As for myself, I remember
that I used to sit and gaze at him, — a habit that often
brought down Master Carlton's displeasure upon my
innocent head. I could n't help it, however. I only
know it was impossible for me to do any studying
when Mr. Whittier was in the room."

Rev. Charles Wingate, as a lad of thirteen, was
with Whittier at the Academy. Says he:—

" I remember him as a big boy whom we were all
proud to know, and by whom we all esteemed it the
greatest of honors to be noticed. Many and many a
time I remember seeing his slate going about from
hand to hand with some little poem that he had struck
off in school. I used always to deem it an exquisite
pleasure, as well as a deep honor, if the slate were
passed to me. I do not remember if Mr. Whittier
ever approved of this proceeding on the part of his
schoolmates. He was always modest in showing his
productions, and when his slate was passed on from
hand to hand, as I have told you, it was generally the
result of some breach of confidence on the part of
some one of his particular friends who sat near him.
These verses were often of a humorous nature, and
often had as subjects things to be found in the school
room. Many, however, were of a more serious and
thoughtful character."1

Boston Advertiser, Dec. 17, 1887.

54 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

The pupils at the Academy were of both sexes, and
from ten to twenty-five years old. The first precep
tress in charge of the young ladies was Miss Arethusa
Hall, who is, I believe, still living in Northampton,
Massachusetts. She has all her life been a teacher in
private schools and academies of Massachusetts and
Brooklyn, Long Island. As an educator she holds
high rank. She has published one or two educa
tional works, as well as the " Thoughts of Blaise
Pascal," and a life of the Rev. Sylvester Judd, in
whose family she lived when a girl. For a class
reunion of the Haverhill Academy, in 1885, she wrote
the following interesting letter, being then over
eighty years of age: —

NORTHAMPTON, MASS., Sept. 3, 1885.
THE REV. MR. WINGATE:

DEAR SIR, — I have your circular inviting me to meet Mr.
Whittier at a reunion of his schoolmates of Haverhill Academy.
It would give me great pleasure not only to meet one of the
most distinguished of our American poets, whom I for the
moment assume the honor of calling one of my pupils, — but
also to see again his young lady schoolmates, who were
directly under my care and instruction. I remember Mr.
Whittier well, as he was then, having enjoyed few opportuni
ties for academic culture, and whom Mr. Duncan introduced to
my attention as " a young man who, at the shoemaker's bench,
often hammered out fine verses." I recollect the assiduity
with which he was reported to study, and I have vividly pic
tured in my memory his appearance at a public examination,
in an embarrassed attitude, undergoing the well-sustained
ordeal. From that time I followed his literary career with
interest, imbued as it was with the noblest principles of human
ity no less than with the deepest poetic feeling. Only a few
days ago I reread with intense delight, summer though it was,

ON THE FARM. 55

his " Snow-Bound," picturing in many points my own early
experiences. I regret very much that I do not see the prob
ability of my being present at the proposed reunion. Failing
in this, you will please present my highest appreciation and
regard to Mr. Whittier, and my kind wishes to any of my old
pupils who may be at the gathering.

Respectfully yours,

ARETHUSA HALL.

Friends who knew Whittier at the period of which
we are now treating describe him as being earnest,
conscientious, witty, quick to help in righting a
wrong; never flattering or to be flattered; a love of
fun and teasing lurking under his grave exterior ;
cold and embarrassed in general society, but in a
small, congenial circle a fine converser. In person
he was tall and slender, with a shy beautiful face, as
innocent and modest in appearance (judging from
his portrait) as the boy Milton or Longfellow. The
portrait painted by Bass Otis ten years later (en
graved for the library edition of the poems) shows
well his amiability and geniality of disposition.
Friends of the Academy days describe Whittier as a
silent, thinking boy, neatly dressed, rather lionized at
school, especially by the girls ; one whom you would
turn to look at a second time on the street. At the
Wednesday afternoon meetings of the scholars for
social and literary entertainment he was usually
present, and entered into the spirit of the hour with
zest, freed for the time being from the bashful reserve
which usually characterized him in public.

In the village he was a member of the group of
progressive intellectual people who met at Judge Pit
man's and Judge Minot's. It is said that he was the

56 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

central figure at these gatherings, the one whose
coming was always waited for; and here he threw off
his natural reserve and took part in the conversation,
always intensely interested, a good listener, and
biding his time to utter his own thought. When his
distant kinsman, Daniel Webster, was a young man
at Portsmouth, New Hampshire, he exercised a curi
ously similar influence upon social circles. All who
knew Webster at that time speak of his tenderness,
gayety, exceedingly rich humor, and fine social pow
ers. A lady who knew him says : "He soon formed
a circle around him of which he was the life and
soul." Yet, in basic traits, how dissimilar the two ! —
Webster conservative, prosaic, unimaginative ; Whit-
tier the exact opposite. In each, however, fervid
intensity of emotion is balanced by a shrewd practi
cal humor, — a sense of the ludicrous which saves
them from extravaganza.

There are discernible in Whittier (as in Webster)
many of the distinctive New England traits, — some
thing of the shrewd caution and conservatism that
plow so deep a line of separation between the East
erner and the sanguine-audacious and nonchalant
Westerner. But, when all is said, Whittier stands
unique, — a curious cross between Quaker, Yankee, and
Saracen, and yet fibred with the purest Americanism.

The foregoing reminiscences of Whittier's school
days help us to understand a little matter that other
wise would seem very mysterious; namely, how Wil
lis Gaylord Clarke could have written of Whittier, in
1830, to the London " Literary Gazette," as "a young
poet-editor of great promise." : To us, the couple of

1 James Grant Wilson, in " Bryant and his Friends," p. 46.

ON THE FARM. 57

dozen of immature poems the boy had published up
to that date seem to furnish too slight a basis for
such praise. But poets were scarce in those days,
and were more highly valued than at present, as the
picture of Haverhill society just given makes evi
dent. Furthermore, William Lloyd Garrison tells
us that Whittier's early verses, printed in Garrison's
Newburyport " Free Press," were " readily copied by
other papers," and thus helped to spread his fame.

CHAPTER II.

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST.

" Now, when I know how far this world's happiness can
reach ; now, when all the stars of good fortune shine over me,
fair and propitious ; now, is it, by my God, a noble spirit which
stirs in me ; now do I give a mighty proof that no offering is
too great for man's highest blessing — the freedom of his coun
try ! The great movement calls for great hearts ; and within
me do I feel the power to be a rock amidst this raging of
the waves of nations. I must away — and throw my breast
with fearless force against this storm of seas." — KORNER, Let
ter to his Father.

FOR five years — 1828 to 1833 — Whittier watched
the career of his friend William Lloyd Garrison
before he decided to cast in his lot with the despised
Abolitionists, in the meantime employing his pen in
purely literary work. Undoubtedly there was a strug
gle in his mind as to just where his duty lay. He
had, as he once said to the writer, political ambitions
and literary aspirations in those days, and he would
seem to have doubted whether he was adapted to the
rough work of reform. Let it be remembered, too,
that his mind matured slowly, that his educational
advantages had been slender, and that to enter upon

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. 59

public work with success it was necessary to have a
disciplined and well-furnished mind.

Not that hatred of oppression was not always
strong in his breast : he had from boyhood up fed his
mind with accounts of the oppressions endured by
his fellow-Quakers, and had inherited from perse
cuted ancestors instincts of freedom. Even a hun
dred years after active persecution of the Quakers
had ceased in New England the old Puritan bitter
ness and bigotry still existed, and Thomas Chalkley,
whose works were cherished and frequently read to
her children by Mrs. Whittier, says in his Travels,
" I, being a stranger and traveler, could not but
observe the barbarous and unchristianlike welcome
I had into Boston. ' Oh, what a pity it was,' said
one, ' that all of your society were not hanged with
the other four ! ' ' It is to be supposed, also, that
that classic of the Friends, Besse's " Sufferings of the
Quakers," was read by Whittier when a boy. The
influence of those old tomes must have tinctured his
very blood, and been built into every fibre of his
being. They alone were enough to determine the
whole course of his life as a friend of the oppressed.

As editor of three different journals, during the
years 1828-1833, Whittier must have studied with con
siderable thoroughness the political situation, and got
well informed on the subject of slavery. Then in 1833
he publishes, at his own expense, his anti-slavery pam
phlet "Justice and Expediency," and takes his stand,
for life or for death, with the friends of the slave.
As soon as he had fairly faced the matter, his__£oetic
insight let him see the shallow sophistry of the
defenders of slavery. He believed tn the dignity of

60 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

human nature and in the Golden Rule of Christ.
Therefore it was that

" He went

And humbly joined him to the weaker part,
Fanatic named, and fool, yet well content

So he could be the nearer to God's heart,
And feel its solemn pulses sending blood
Through all the widespread veins of endless good."

His first journalistic work was done as editor of
the "American Manufacturer" of Boston, — a posi
tion for which he was indebted to his friend William
Lloyd Garrison, who was at that time editing in
Boston the " National Philanthropist," the first paper
in the world established expressly to advocate total
abstinence from intoxicating liquors. The founder
of this paper was the Rev. William Collier, a Baptist
city missionary, who kept a kind of boarding-house
at 30 Federal Street, near Milk. Whittier and Gar
rison both boarded with " Parson Collier," who was
also the proprietor of Whittier's " Manufacturer, "-
a protectionist paper, and friendly to Henry Clay. It
was to Parson Collier's also that Benjamin Lundy
came in 1828, and first interested Garrison in the
cause of the slave. Whittier had gone to Boston to
study and read, 1828-29, and he accepted this edi
torial work, at $9 a week, because it enabled him to
carry on his studies. He confesses that he always
had to study up his subjects before writing his edi
torials for this journal.

The next year, 1830, he is at home, editing the
Haverhill " Gazette." From July, 1830, to January,
1832, he is editor of George D. Prentice's " New Eng-

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. 6l

land Weekly Review," published in Hartford, Con
necticut. When at the Haverhill Academy, he had
sent some of his "compositions" to Prentice, who
liked them and published them with commendatory
notice. Young Whittier was at work in the field
when the letter of the Hartford publishers was
brought to him, asking him to edit their " Review."
He was overwhelmed with astonishment at the
request, yet accepted. He says the publishers, on
thei** part, were much surprised at his youth, when
they first met him. He let them do most of the talk
ing in the first interview! The Hartford episode was
a period of quiet gestation and study, during which
he wrote poems and sketches, and edited the literary
remains of his friend J. G. C. Brainard. In March,
1831, he made a trip home, to be with the good father
during his last illness. The publishers of the " Re
view " were so pleased with his sketches and poems
that they had shortly before issued a collection of
them in a small volume, — Whittier's first published
work, now suppressed, — entitled " Legends of New
England, in Prose and Verse." The trip to Haverhill
was of course by stage-coach. There were no rose
wood, upholstered boudoir cars to ride in then, — not a
single railroad in New England, and but two in the
United States, and they just built.1 Mr. Whittier

1 One in South Carolina and one in New York, the latter being
the Mohawk & Hudson Railway, on which the queer, little De Witt
Clinton locomotive had been drawing rude passengers-cars for about
two months. On some of these early railways they had open cars
for people of small means. As many of the Abolitionists were num
bered among this class, they occasionally availed themselves of
the open cars. See the fascinating Life of Garrison by his sons.

62 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

wrote at the time an amusing account of the hard
ships and miseries of his journey.

From 1832 to 1837 Whittier toiled on the farm and
finally succeeded in paying off the debt with which it
was encumbered. It is stated that he used to drive
over to the head of tide-water on the Merrimack with
apples and vegetables, which he exchanged for salt-
fish with the owners of coasting vessels. Hard work
and little yield is the rule on most Massachusetts
farms. In the intervals of farm work he managed to
print " Moll Pitcher" (of which more hereafter) and
" Mogg Megone." His hero "Mogg " he has styled
"a big Injun strutting around in Walter Scott's
plaid." He says that for his early poems and literary
articles he received absolutely nothing, with the
exception of a few dollars from the " Democratic Re
view " and " Buckingham's New England Magazine,"
his pronounced views on slavery making his name
too unpopular for a publisher's uses. In a prefatory
note to " Moll Pitcher," he humorously owns up to
the unremunerative nature of his literary work : "I
have not enough of the poetical in my disposition to
dream of converting, by an alchemy more potent
than that of the old philosophers, a limping couplet
into a brace of doubloons, or a rickety stanza into a
note of hand." All this time, it is to be understood
that he was by no means indifferent to the subject of
slavery, but was earnestly examining it in all its
aspects. Some time early in 1833, while he was thus
engaged, Garrison, as if divining his thoughts, wrote
as follows to three young ladies of Haverhill: —

" You excite my curiosity and interest by informing me that
my dearly beloved Whittier is a friend and townsman of yours.

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. 63

Can we not induce him to devote his brilliant genius more to
the advancement of our cause, and kindred enterprises, and
less to the creations of romance and fancy, and the disturbing
incidents of political strife ? . . . You think my influence
will prevail with Whittier more than yours. I think otherwise.
If he has not already blotted my name from the tablet of his
memory, it is because his magnanimity is superior to neglect.
We have had no correspondence whatever for more than a
year with each other ! Does this look like friendship between
us ? And yet I take the blame all to myself. He is not a
debtor to me — I owe him many letters. . . . Pray secure
his forgiveness, and tell him that my love to him is as strong
as was that of David to Jonathan. Soon I hope to send him a
contrite epistle, and I know he will return a generous pardon." l

Presently, as if in response to the appeal in this
letter, Whittier publishes at his own expense, in June,
1833, his "Justice and Expediency; or, Slavery Con
sidered with a View to its Rightful and Effectual
Remedy, Abolition." An edition of 5,000 copies was
afterwards issued by Lewis Tappan, for gratuitous
distribution. Tappan wrote Whittier a very kind
letter about the essay, and it was appreciatively
reviewed by the anti-slavery editor, Nathaniel P.
Rogers. A notice of it in a Virginia paper called
forth two long and noble responses from its author.
They were published in the " Liberator," and are
included in the latest edition of his prose works. In
a foot-note to the pamphlet Whittier calls the atten
tion of his friends to "'Thoughts on Colonization,' a
very able and eloquent pamphlet by a much-traduced
and noble-hearted philanthropist, William L. Garri
son, of Boston." Garrison returns the compliment

1 Life of Garrison, i. 331.

64 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

in a little paragraph in his paper, to the effect that
" John G. Whittier, of Haverhill, a member of the
Society of Friends, and a gentleman distinguished as
a writer, has published an excellent pamphlet on the
subject of slavery. . . . Friend Whittier deserves
to be called the Stuart of America."

" Justice and Expediency" is a thorough piece of
argument, terribly in earnest, abounding in italicised
and capitalized sentences (as first printed), and solemn
appeals to the religious nature. In Great Britain the
long struggle for emancipation in the West Indies
was just drawing to a close, and the writings of the
British anti-slavery chiefs were drawn upon by Whit
tier for material and illustrations, although perhaps
not quite so tellingly as in Mrs. Child's "Appeal,"
published four months later in the same year. A
few sentences from " Justice and Expediency " will
give an idea of the treatment:—

" But it may be said that the miserable victims of the sys
tem have our sympathies.

" Sympathy ! — the sympathy of the Priest and the Levite,
looking on, and acknowledging, but holding itself aloof from
mortal suffering. Can such hollow sympathy reach the broken
of heart, and does the blessing of those who are ready to per
ish answer it ? Does it hold back the lash from the slave, or
sweeten his bitter bread ?

"Oh, my heart is sick — my very soul is weary of this sympa
thy — this heartless mockery of feeling. . . .

"No — let the TRUTH on this subject — undisguised, naked,
terrible as it is, stand out before us. Let us no longer seek to
cover it — let us no longer strive to forget it — let us no more
dare to palliate it. ...

" Sisters, daughters, wives, and mothers, your influence is
felt everywhere, at the fireside, and in the halls of legislation,

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. 65

surrounding, like the all-encircling atmosphere, brother and
father, husband and son ! And by your love of them, by every
holy sympathy of your bosoms, by every mournful appeal which
comes up to you from hearts whose sanctuary of affections has
been made waste and desolate, you are called upon to exert it
in the cause of redemption from wrong and outrage. . . .

" In vain you enact and abrogate your tariffs ; in vain is indi
vidual sacrifice, or sectional concession. The accursed thing
is with us, the stone of stumbling and the rock of offense
remains. Drag, then, the Achan into light ; and let national
repentance atone for national sin. . . .

" But a few months ago we were on the verge of civil war.
. . . The danger has been delayed for a time ; this bolt has
fallen without mortal injury to the Union, but the cloud from
which it came still hangs above us, reddening with the ele
ments of destruction."

Soon after the publication of " Justice and Expe
diency" there appeared in the Haverhill "Gazette"
Whittier's first anti-slavery poem, — the lines to Gar
rison, " Champion of those who groan beneath
oppression's iron hand," — a poem which had, how
ever, been in his portfolio since 1832, and which was
quickly followed by " Toussaint L'Ouverture " and
" The Slave-Ships," the handsel of a long and remark
able series of poems of freedom, extending over a
period of thirty years, during which the stirring music
of these northern pibrochs never ceased to be heard.

Whittier has now unfurled his flag and taken his
place in the ranks of freedom, and it behooves us to
ascend to some elevated point and sweep the horizon
with our glass, — in other words, get some idea of
the situation, appreciate the sacrifice made, under
stand the obloquy and danger undergone by the
reformers, the sufferings of the slave and the attitude
5

66 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

of society and the Church toward the doctrine of
immediate emancipation. In short, I purpose to fore
cast the years, and briefly touch on the more salient
features of the Abolition struggle, so that those who
were not of it may better understand the part played
by Whittier in the movement. I shall then give an
account of the poet's adventures and sufferings as a
member of the anti-slavery band, and of his anti-
slavery poems and the enthusiasm of humanity they
awakened in the minds of all true men.

In brief, the situation was this: The nation at large
was lulling a guilty conscience with the music of the
cotton-gin, stopping its ears against the languid pro
tests and half-forgotten example of the Quakers, and
paying no attention at all to the timid voice of Ben
jamin Lundy, — but had been suddenly startled and
angered by the loud voice of William Lloyd Garrison
of Massachusetts calling for Immediate Emancipa
tion. Garrison had been imprisoned in Baltimore for
opposition to the slave-trade, and a price of $5,000 set
on his head by the Legislature of Georgia. The
"Liberator " had been conducted by him in Boston
for two years and a half, and he had put forth a
crushing pamphlet against the iniquitous Coloniza
tion Society, which, with full apology for existing
slavery, and cheerfully recognizing the status of the
slave as a chattel, was filled with bitter prejudice
against the free " niggers," and sought their unjust
expulsion from the country. Finally, the school of
Prudence Crandall, established in Canterbury, Con
necticut, for the education of young colored girls,
after a long struggle against insane prejudice, had at
last been closed by the State authorities.

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. 67

Of the stainless moral integrity of Garrison, by
whose side Whittier now stood bravely forth, there can
be no question. That to Garrison more than to
any other single individual was due the creation of
the public sentiment that made possible the Eman
cipation Proclamation, and sustained Congress in
the passing of the Constitutional Amendment forever
abolishing slavery in this country, it seems to me
fatuous to deny. His words were " sparkles hot and
seed ethereal " dropped into the moral nature of the
American people, to kindle there an undying flame.
In half a dozen years, the society founded by him in
Boston had multiplied to eight hundred, three hun
dred of which were in Ohio alone, and one of these
societies numbered four thousand members. All bear
witness to the purity of Garrison's character, his
beautiful domestic life, his gay-heartedness, and his
gentleness and moderation in private conversation.
Harriet Martineau deemed him to be " one of God's
nobility," "covered all over with the stars and orders
of the spiritual realm." It is related of Charles Sum-
ner that shortly after the assault upon him by Brooks,
and while the wounds on his head were yet new and of
a dangerous character, and his physician had strictly
charged him not to take off his hat out of doors,
yet, when he caught sight of William Lloyd Garrison
on a street of Boston, he took off his hat to him, and
to him alone of all he met. Intensely positive souls
Garrison attached to his own by the strongest ties.
But people who did not know him personally were
incensed by the violent language of his editorials and
speeches. He wrote with very strong ink, his words
were not musk-scented by any means, and the lip of

68 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

the medicine-glass he offered the South was not
smeared with honey. Like most journalists of that
day, he could speak daggers and make every word
stab. He was almost as headstrong in his attempts
to defend and enforce his doctrines of Perfectionism,
Non-Resistance, Non-Political Action, and Disunion,
as in his battle against the slave-power. He caused
a split in the ranks of the Abolitionists, alienated
many stanch friends, and poured his scorn upon such
advocates of gradual and conciliatory anti-slavery
measures as Dr. William Ellery Channing and Henry
Ward Beecher.

Now, there are thousands of Southern gentlemen
who were as humane in their treatment of their
slaves as ever was Thomas Jefferson or George
Washington. They did not therefore quite fancy
being described in the columns of the " Liberator,"
in staring capitals, as THIEVES, ROBBERS, and
MAN-STEALERS, " man-hyenas," "fiends in hu
man shape," "assassins of bleeding humanity."
Vituperative epithets such as these bespatter all the
early pages of the " Liberator." For example, allud
ing editorially to an article in the " Colonization
Herald " of Philadelphia, written just after the burn
ing by a mob of the Abolitionists' splendid new
Pennsylvania Hall, the " Liberator " speaks of its
"brutally contemptuous and fiendishly malignant"
language, its " vulgar billingsgate," and thinks that
"the man who can write such an article is a ruffian
capable of any crime." But now the article, as
reprinted on the same page, contains no billingsgate
whatever, and no fiendish language : it is only
quietly satirical. The clergy the " Liberator" styles
" a brotherhood of thieves." A certain Dr. Baird is

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. 69

delicately alluded to as " this lickspittle of European
despotism and aristocracy." In reference to Rev.
William S. Plummer, D.D., a slaveholder of Virginia,
the "Liberator's" Philadelphia correspondent re
marks, " Can there be a more detestable, a more
infamous, and more diabolical character on earth
than a professedly man-stealing minister?" Caleb
Gushing is styled by Garrison " an impudent, canting
demagogue," " a fool," " a political adventurer," "a
shallow sophist," "a dissimulator," and "a recreant
son of Massachusetts" ("Liberator," Feb. 5 and 19, '58).
Nathan Hale, father of Edward Everett Hale, and edi
tor of the Boston " Advertiser," wrote some temper
ate and not unkindly articles on the evils of the inter
marriage of distinct types, /. e., on race degeneration
(with reference to the amalgamation laws of Massa
chusetts); whereupon Garrison bestows upon him
some tender and charitable appellations, — as, " the
twaddling, cowardly, doughfaced editor of the
'Advertiser" ("Liberator," xv. i); "impertinent
intermeddler," "impudent," "shameless," "de
praved"; "this man aspires to the level of respect
able society, though in spirit he seems to be as
degraded as the lowest frequenters of Billingsgate";
"in the struggle for liberty, he will distinctively
espouse the side of villainy" ("Liberator," Feb. 24, '43).
However, the " Liberator's " intemperate lan
guage, although regretted by the more judicious of
the Abolitionists, was by no means disliked by all.
And, in truth, it may be doubted whether mild lan
guage would have excited any attention. Language
both fierce and loud was needed to pierce to the con
science of a people whose ears were stopped with

70 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

Southern cotton. And then observe, please, that the
Abolitionists got rough language as well as gave it.
Throw a scoop-net back into almost any part of the
anti-slavery brine, and you will fetch up grewsome
proofs of this, live and quivering. Here, for example:
In one of the martyrical lecturing tours of apostles
Stephen Foster and Abby Kelley they had been
stoned by the boys of a certain town; the local paper
blames the boys for putting themselves on a level
with " most consummate blackguards." If Saint
Stephen called them robbers and nigger-baby thieves
and their ministers servants and ambassadors of the
devil, they retorted in kind. Abby and Stephen
charge two cents for the privilege of signing a peti
tion of theirs for the dissolution of the Union; the
local paper exclaims, " Dissolve the Union ! — may the
heart that could conceive the thought be torn from
its resting-place, and thrown to the dogs ! " The
Abolitionists' tongues are likened to " serpents' fangs
bedabbled in corruption's foulest dregs." '

Abolition was a religion to those who believed in
it, a sublime consecration, a solemn sacrament. They
called each other brother and sister, and sang their
Abolition hymns with all the fervor of Methodist re
vivalists. Said Miss Martineau, after her first acquaint
ance with the Abolitionists: " Ordinary social life is
spoiled for them; but another which is far better has
grown up among them. ... A just survey of the
whole world can leave little doubt that the Abolition
ists of the United States are the greatest people now
living and moving in it." 2 So Lydia Maria Child

Liberator, Oct. 17, 1845.
Westminster Review, xxxii. 59 (1839).

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. 7 1

says, somewhere in one of her published letters, that
socially she lost nothing by her advocacy of Aboli
tionism, for she made thereby the acquaintance of
the noblest people, morally and intellectually, that
she had ever known. Miss Martineau especially notes
the " bright faces " and continual cheerfulness and
courage of the Abolitionists. Wendell Phillips said
that Garrison's life was the happiest he ever knew,
and all of Mr. Garrison's friends say the same. So
Oliver Johnson is called by his friend, John Chadwick,
" the happiest of men."

Of course the movement brought out the long
haired fraternity and the cranks (" long-heels,"
the Boston boys dubbed them), but in no greater
number than in the case of every unpopular moral
reform.1 The justness of a cause is not impeached

1 Oliver Johnson tells an amusing story of good Abigail Folsom,
an innocent monomaniac on the subject of free speech, who used
to annoy anti-slavery meetings by her grotesque interruptions, but
was respected for her generous gifts to deserving folk. She was
very witty, and was always roundly cheered by the hostile charac
ters that usually fringed the anti-slavery meetings. On one occa
sion when, seated in a chair, she was being gently carried out of a
meeting by Wendell Phillips, Oliver Johnson, and another, she
said to the crowd in the aisle, " I 'm better off than my Master was:
he had but one ass to ride, I have three to carry me."

Mr. Whittier has recently told another story which matches
this. They were having a stormy anti-slavery meeting in New
York. Difference of opinion threatened to break up the meeting.
But it so happened that near each other on the platform were Gar
rison, whose head was very bald; William A. Burleigh, whose
hair fell in heavy masses to his shoulders ; and a coal-black negro.
" All at once," says Mr. Whittier, " during a brief lull, some man

72 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

by the imperfections of its defenders. There were
all kinds of apples in the Abolition barrel. There
was plenty of raving fanaticism in the brains of the
anti-slavery lecturers, and a plenteous lack of judg
ment and high breeding. On the one hand, you have
the fiery indignation, tempered by courtesy and char
ity, of such men as Whittier, and such women as
Lucy Stone, the Grimke sisters, and Lucretia Mott;
and, on the other, such fanatical apostles as poor,
meek, non-resistant Stephen S. Foster, and brawny
Parker Pillsbury, — " reviled and pelted Stephen"
(who became thoroughly familiar with the odor of
rotten eggs and the nature of brickbats and sole-
leather), and " brown, broad-shouldered Pillsbury,"
whose book, full of shrieks and superlatives and de
nunciations, on the anti-slavery crusade, as waged
in the schoolhouses and churches of country towns
by himself and brethren, must be read by all who
want to know what Abolitionism was in all its phases.
A little incident in the career of one of these minor
prophets of the cause, Stephen Foster, will help us to
understand why he was " chucked " into lamp closets
and kicked out of churches so often. He was one
evening sitting on the platform waiting for his audi
ence, when a woman came up to the front seat with a
child in her arms. Foster pointed his finger at her,

in the back part of the hall shouted at the top of his voice, ' Mr.
Speaker! Mr. Speaker! I 've only a word to say. I want that
negro to shave Burleigh and make a wig for Garrison!' The
whole house immediately broke forth into roars of laughter, which
had the effect to avert all trouble, which had seemed imminent,
and good humor was restored." As Mr. Whittier finished relating
the incident he laughed heartily until the tears ran down his cheeks.

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. 73

and said to the audience, " There are babies in the
South stolen from the cradle much whiter than the
one that lady holds in her arms." The poor creature
sank down abashed and terror-stricken, as all eyes
were bent upon her to see what kind of a black child
she had given birth to.1 Is it any wonder that when
sound eggs were worth two cents, rotten ones were
worth four cents apiece for certain Abolitionists'
heads ?

I have unwillingly dwelt upon the darker side of
the Abolition movement in order to make it clear
that, when Whittier espoused the cause of the slave,
he had counted the cost, and knew that he was bury
ing all hope of political preferment and literary gains.
Those who gave themselves to the work knew not
but that it might be for a lifetime. To be shunned
and spat upon by society, mobbed in public, and
injured in one's business, — this was what it meant to
become an Abolitionist. When Miss Martineau
avowed her sympathy with them, society shut its
doors in her face. When Longfellow put forth his
little pamphlet of poems on slavery, weak and harm
less as they were, the editor of " Graham's Magazine "
wrote to 'him to offer excuses for the brevity of a
guarded notice of the poems, saying that the word
" slavery " was never allowed to appear in a Phila
delphia periodical, and that the publisher of the
magazine had objected to have even the name of the
book appear in his pages. This recalls the notorious
mutilations made in foreign books republished in
America by the American Tract Society. Several of

Liberator, Oct. 10, 1845.

74 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

their books were "doctored" by cutting out the
word " slave" and other matter, and the insertion of
harmless equivalents that would give no offense to
slaveholders. See Pillsbury's "Acts of the Anti-
slavery Apostles," where the details are given. Allu
sion only can be made to a few of the innumerable
persecutions endured by the friends of the black race.
How Lydia Maria Child was deprived of the use of
the Athenaeum library in Boston, because the first
use she had made of it was to prepare her " Appeal ";
how Dr. Follen was deprived of his professorship in
Harvard College for his brave espousal ot Abolition
ism ; how Prudence Crandall's schoolhouse was
defiled with filth, and its windows broken; how
Arthur Tappan's house was sacked and his life threat
ened; how Dr. Reuben Crandall (teacher of botany
in Washington, D. C., and brother of Prudence Cran
dall), for having, at his own request, lent to a white
citizen a copy of Whittier's " Justice and Expedi
ency," was kept in the damp city prison for eight
months, until the seeds of consumption were sown,
and his life made a sacrifice ; how Amos Dresser was
flogged in the public square of Nashville, and his
fellow-student of Lane Seminary, the eloquent Marius
R. Robinson, was dragged from his bed at night, and
tarred and feathered by ruffians, — all these things are
matters of history.

But those of the faithful Abolition band who still
survive have had ample revenge. Looked upon then
as the scum of the earth, they are now regarded as
heroes and martyrs. Stone in those days was vio
lently applied to their persons : to-day it is used to
carve their statues and busts. Brickbats were then

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. 75

employed against them as a posteriori arguments: they
are now used for such objects as erecting a $200,000
hall to the memory of Wendell Phillips. Frederick
Douglass was at that time a fugitive slave hunted by
bloodhounds: recently he was United States Minister
to Hayti. A " nigger " then was deemed a soulless
ape, a malodorous beast of burden: to-day a monu
ment to the black man Crispus Attucks stands on
Boston Common. The very community that regarded
Garrison as an intolerable nuisance made him a pres
ent of $30,000; and he and Whittier lived to see them
selves regarded, with John Brown and Abraham Lin
coln, as the saviours of the colored race, and to receive,
by ovations and public letters, the grateful reverence
of that rapidly rising and affectionate class of Ameri
can citizens. When the first number of the " Liber
ator " was issued, it was a deadly crime to teach a
negro to read or to write; but since the year 1865
more than fifty million dollars have been expended
in the education of Southern negroes, and in 1888
there were fifteen thousand primary schools and some
seventy academies, colleges, and professional schools
in the South, established for the education of the
colored race. The colored people now edit over one
hundred and fifty newspapers. As for the opponents
of the Abolitionists, they are now the obscure and
despised. Whittier says, in a pleasant rhymed epistle
to his fellow-bard John Pierpont, —

" Where now are all the ' unco good/
The Canaan-cursing ' Brotherhood,'
The mobs they raised, the storms they brewed,
And pulpit thunder ?

76 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

Sheer sunk like Pharaoh's multitude ;
They 've all ' gone under ! '" l

Some of Whittier's strongest poems (for stern sar
casm and ironical rebuke) were inspired by the oppo
sition of the canting pro-slavery clergy, North and
South. That for many years after the anti-slavery
agitation had begun the American Church was the
bulwark of slavery, has been proved again and again
by such writers as Charles K. Whipple, Oliver John
son, Parker Pillsbury, and the Garrison brothers.
Nothing surprised William Lloyd Garrison more
than the discovery of this fact. A hired priesthood
has often been the conservator of the popular will
If the pulpits had been occupied by unsalaried speak
ers, — as with the Quakers, — the Abolitionists would
not have encountered a hundredth part of the oppo
sition they did. Some of the preachers, however,
were on the right side from the start, — Beriah Green,
Moses Thacher, Amos A. Phelps ; Dr. Samuel H.
Cox and J. R. W. Sloane of New York City ; John
Rankin, William H. Furness, and others.2 The
clergy as a body wheeled into line after a time. As
early as 1845, one hundred and seventy ministers of
Massachusetts signed a protest against slavery, which

1 Liberator, April 28, '65; not reprinted.

2 I am glad to remember that the house of my father, Rev.
William Sloane Kennedy, of Sandusky, in the Western Reserve,
was a station on the Underground Railroad. One of my earliest
recollections is that of seeing a group of fugitive slaves, black as
coal, standing in our wood-shed waiting for their breakfast, — and
we children enjoined for our lives not to mention the matter to
anyone,

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. 77

had been drawn up by James Freeman Clarke.1
Whittier tells of a minister in the old town of New-
bury, Massachusetts, who startled and shamed his
brother-ministers, who were zealously preaching
the enforcement of the Fugitive Slave Law, by draw
ing up for them a form of prayer for use while engaged
in catching runaway slaves.

The record of the Quakers on the slavery o^sti
in Abolition times is not one for their body as a whole
to be proud of. They had fallen away from the high
position they occupied nearly a century previous,
when they had voluntarily freed all their slaves, and
were become as worldly and selfish as the other
churches. Having removed slavery from among
themselves, they felt no call to interfere with the con
science of Southerners in the matter, especially as
their wealth was acquired largely by Southern trade;
and Daniel Webster could boast, without fear of con
tradiction, that he had the support of the sober and
" respectable " part of the Society of Friends in his
action in support of the Fugitive Slave Law. Yet the
work accomplished by such ardent anti-slavery peo
ple as the Grimke sisters, Lucretia Mott, John Ken-
rick, Thomas Shipley, Lindley Coates, and John
Greenleaf Whittier atones for much that is hard to,
forgive in the attitude of the Quakers toward slavery
at that time.2 And one is glad to remember the deed

1 See his " Anti-slavery Days," p. 131. The protest, with all
the names, is in the " Liberator," Oct. 10, '45.

2 A pleasant picture of the domestic life of an anti-slavery
Quaker family during Abolition days is given by Lillie B. Chace
Wyman in the " Atlantic Monthly," August, 1889.

78 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

of the brilliant philosophical writer and wealthy man
ufacturer, Rowland G. Hazard of Rhode Island, a
Quaker by birth, who in 1841, being in New Orleans,
obtained, by great effort and in the face of threats,
the liberation of one hundred free colored men who
belonged to ships from the North, and had been placed
in the chain-gang as slaves.

The system of slavery was atrocious, Thomas Car-
lyle to the contrary notwithstanding. " Enslave but
a single human being/'said Garrison, " and the liberty
of the world is put in peril." And another said,
" Slavery has a guilt the blackness of which can never
be painted except by a pencil dipped in the midnight
of the bottomless pit." To deprive a human being of
self-respect, to cut the houghs of his manhood, to
regard him as a beast of burden to be fed on a peck
of corn a week and occasionally given a shirt of coarse
bagging and a pair of trousers to hide his nakedness;
to make of a woman a breeding-animal, and forbid
her the rite of marriage; to tear children from their
mother's knees to be carried off where they would
never see them again; to whip a human being to
death, to tear out his nails by the roots, brand him,
cut the tendons of his heels, and burn him to death,1
— not very pleasant things these, and not exactly cal-

1 This seems to be a favorite amusement with lynchers of the
negro in the South. The case of the negro Mclntosh who was
burned to death in slow agony by the whole street populace of St.
Louis, in 1836, is well known. In the month of September,
1889, the New York " Nation" copied from a Southern paper an
account of the recent burning to death of a negro lad, for the crime
of rape. There are on record other cases of negro-burnings.

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. 79

culated to make Northern lovers of freedom moderate
in their opposition.

And yet there was a sunny side to slavery. Human
nature is at heart good, and much the same every
where. The writer, in looking over a manuscript
lecture of his father's (written in 1858, shortly after
his return from a trip to New Orleans, whither he
had gone as a delegate to the General Assembly of
the Presbyterian Church), finds several statements
that furnish interesting testimony to the general
humanity of the slaveholders. Speaking as one
known to be anti-slavery in his sentiments, he yet
says: "A traveler in the South will learn that there
is vastly more creature comfort and contentment
amongst the mass of the slaves than he supposed.
Their general appearance gives no indication of
oppression." (Opinion based upon observations in
several cities.) He attended several slave sales, and
found no exhibition of brutality, no inhumanity.
The physical condition of the blacks was fine: " Their
strict regimen and discipline and their restraint from
vice tend to develop and perfect their physiques."
" Had we been at the South and the planters at the
North, unquestionably we should have been the
slaveholders, and they the Abolitionists. In habits,
appearance, intellectual culture, morals, and religion
they are our equals; in hospitality and liberality, our
superiors."

There can be no doubt that kind treatment of the
slave was the rule in nearly all parts of the South.
The Abolitionists never forgave Dr. Nehemiah
Adams, of Boston, for revealing, in his " South-Side
View of Slavery," the brighter side of the institution;

80 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

and yet he did not refuse to give the darker side also.
I am not defending the clerical sophistry by which
Dr. Adams shored up the institution, trying to put
out a volcano with a shovelful of Northern snow; but
any one who has seen a good deal of negro life in
the South cannot help having his risibilities excited
by the opening pages of Dr. Adams's book, in which
he tells how, on going South for the first time, with
fearful apprehensions, expecting to meet on all sides
the painful evidences of suffering, — chains, manacles,
the whip, and looks of woe and despair, — he landed
at Savannah, and, instead of finding negroes on
bended knees, with manacled hands raised implor
ingly, and saying, "Am not I a man and a brother?"
— a common picture on anti-slavery broadsides and
tracts, — he found on the wharf a lot of blacks so
polite, jolly, and full of catching "hi-his!" — lifting
one leg as they laughed — that he began to laugh with
them in spite of himself. He then goes on to tell of
the pleasant relations existing between master and
slave, as he noticed them in traveling about.

The most deeply rooted prejudice encountered by
the Abolitionists was " colorphobia." It was some
thing that could not be argued with. The cutting
irony of Garrison's Shorter Catechism fell upon deaf
ears : —

" Why are slaves not fit for freedom ? Because they are
black. Why does the Bible justify American slavery ? Be
cause its victims are black. Why are the slaves contented and
happy ? Because they are black. Why are they not created
in the image of God ? Because they are black."

Negrophobia is, even now, almost as strong among

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. 8l

the vulgar class of whites as it was twenty-five years
ago. We have educated colored people now by the
thousand — singers, authors, judges, journalists, states
men even — both North and South. It matters not:
the least strain of darker blood stamps them as of
the pariah caste. Europeans laugh at this color-
nervousness, and it is about time we had got rid of
it. A few years ago, Prof. Richard J. Greener and
Mr. Robert A. Terrell, of Washington (both colored),
sons of Harvard College, wished to join the Washing
ton Club of Harvard graduates : they were black
balled on account of their color, so it is said. And
yet, in 1889, the Senior Class of Harvard College
elected a gifted black man, Clement H. Morgan, to
the class oratorship, — the highest honor at its dis
posal. This is encouraging, even if it was the result
of ballot-and-nomination cabals, as I learned at Har
vard. In the same year, also, Yale students chose a
colored man for one of the college base-ball nine.
Not long ago, I stood in a car of the Old Colony
Railroad in Boston, waiting to see a friend off for
New York. The seats were all taken but one, and
that was partly occupied by a mulatto lady, with fine
massive, intellectual face, and an expression of ma
tronly dignity. Nobody would share the seat with
her. One white boor stood a moment eying the
seat wistfully; she moved her package ; he walked
away without a word of thanks. The face of the
lady only took on a look of deeper patience and suf
fering. She was used to such insults.

A few years ago a beautiful and intelligent
lady was attending a private school in Pittsburg.
She stood for a year at the head of the school, and
6

82 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

was the favorite pupil of the master. One day it
transpired that she had a few drops of unsuspected
African blood in her veins: she was at once expelled
by the poltroon pedagogue.1

Again, for the heinous crime of allowing white and
colored students to be educated together within its
walls, the Atlanta University was refused its annual
appropriation of $8,000 by the Georgia Legislature, a
short time ago, and this despicable act was heartily
approved by the Southern press.

As the negroes move upward in the social scale,
they feel social ostracism more keenly. In the South,
the Jim Crow car is still in existence. No negro is al
lowed to ride first-class. A colored preacher in South
Carolina not long ago brought complaint against a
Southern railroad before the Interstate Railway
Commission for being ejected from a first-class car;
negro murders and riots are common at the South;
the negroes are refusing to work for the whites, and
the relations between the two races are strained to
breaking in some sections. Some of the leaders of
the negroes advise emigration, and in their journals
utter foolish threats against the " white trash," who
are their bitterest enemies. At the celebration of the
twenty-fifth anniversary of the Emancipation Procla
mation in Boston, Bishop H. M. Turner, the first
colored chaplain commissioned in the United States
Army, said, " Twenty-five years have made us more
enlightened than any freed people on the face of the
earth; another twenty-five years, and the white man
will tremble at the injustice he has done us." And

1 The Forum, October, 1889.

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. 83

the Hon, George P. Downing, of Newport, Rhode
Island, said: " For sixty years I have felt myself to
be the victim of injustice. Although I have never
committed any crime, I have never seemed to breathe
the free air of my native country. ... A fire of
dissatisfaction and grief burns in my breast. The
conservative speech I am now making would endan
ger my life in some States. While my son is spurned
from your counting-room, your art-museum, and
your church, and while my wife is forbidden to ride
with you in the railway car, while my countrymen
are murdered in the South, can you expect me to be
mild ? " Evidently, the work of Abolitionism is not
over yet. There are wrongs demanding its attention
nearer home than Africa, and quite as cruel as the
Arab slave-trade (if more subtle and more hidden
from view). A leading colored man of this country,
having recently returned from Europe, where no in
vidious and galling discriminations were made against
him on account of his color, feels the change to our
bigoted atmosphere so bitterly that he has made calls
on a large number of the leading men of his race in
the vicinity of New York, and secured their coopera
tion in the formation of a national defensive league
of all the colored people of America. It is clearly the
duty and privilege of the surviving Abolitionists and
their children to support them in such steps as this.
It is a curious fact that the old colonization scheme
is coming to the front again, and is by no means
dead and buried, as Garrison thought. The plan is
advocated not only by some of the blacks themselves,
but by Senator Wade Hampton and others. In Texas
a plan was recently broached (approved of and sub-

84 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

sidized by the Mexican Government) to colonize the
blacks of Texas in Vera Cruz, Mexico, for the raising
of cotton and sugar-cane.

To return now to Whittier. He first saw service in
the field as one of the secretaries of the Philadelphia
Anti-slavery Convention of '33. Portions of his own
graphic sketch of the meeting cannot be condensed
or restated without loss. I shall therefore without
apology make somewhat copious quotations, filling
in the picture with an incident or two from Samuel
J. May's " Recollections" and other sources: —

" In the gray twilight of a chill day of late November," says
Whittier, " forty years ago, a dear friend of mine, residing in
Boston, made his appearance at the old farm-house in East
Haverhill. He had been deputed by the Abolitionists of the
city — William Lloyd Garrison, Samuel E. Sewall, and others —
to inform me of my appointment as a delegate to the Conven
tion about to be held in Philadelphia for the formation of an
American Anti-slavery Society, and to urge upon me the neces
sity of my attendance.

" Few words of persuasion, however, were needed. I was
unused to traveling; my life had been spent on a secluded
farm ; and the journey, mostly by stage-coach, at that time
was really a formidable one. Moreover the few Abolitionists
were everywhere spoken against, their persons threatened, and,
in some instances, a price set on their heads by Southern legis
lators. Pennsylvania was on the borders of slavery, and it
needed small effort of imagination to picture to one's self the
breaking up of the Convention and maltreatment of its mem
bers. This latter consideration I do not think weighed much
with me, although I was better prepared for serious danger
than for anything like personal indignity. I had read Gov
ernor Trumbull's description of the tarring and feathering of
his hero, MacFingal, when, after the application of the melted

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. 85

tar, the feather-bed was ripped open and shaken over him,

until

' Not Maia's son with wings for ears,
Such plumes about his visage wears,
Nor Milton's six-winged angel gathers
Such superfluity of feathers,'

and I confess I was quite unwilling to undergo a martyrdom
which my best friends could scarcely refrain from laughing at.
But a summons like that of Garrison's bugle-blast could scarcely
be unheeded by one who, from birth and education, held fast
the traditions of that earlier Abolitionism which, under the lead
of Benezet and Woolman, had effaced from the Society of
Friends every vestige of slave-holding. I had thrown myself,
with a young man's fervid enthusiasm, into a movement which
commended itself to my reason and conscience, to my love of
country, and my sense of duty to God and my fellow-men.
My first venture in authorship was the publication, at my own
expense, in the spring of 1833, of a pamphlet entitled 'Justice
and Expediency,' on the moral and political evils of slavery,
and the duty of emancipation. Under such circumstances, I
could not hesitate, but prepared at once for my journey. It
was necessary that I should start on the morrow, and the inter
vening time, with a small allowance for sleep, was spent in
providing for the care of the farm and homestead during my
absence."

The expenses of so long a journey were no slight
matter, and he had written to Mr. Garrison, when the
first proposal was made to him, that he would like to
go. " But," said he, " the expenses of the journey
will, I fear, be too much for me : as thee knows, our
farming business does not put much money in our
pockets." In the end his expenses were borne by the
generous Samuel E. Sewall.1

1 Life of Garrison by his sons.

86 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

Taking the stage for Boston, he put up at the
old Eastern Stage Tavern, and next morning started
for New York by the stage-coach in company with
William Lloyd Garrison. On arriving in Phila-
delpia, the delegates first held an informal meeting
at the house of the Abolition Quaker, Evan Lewis.
The chairman of the meeting was Lewis Tappan, one
of the pillars of Abolitionism, a handsome, intel
lectual-looking man, with clear incisive tones, cool
self-possession, fine business qualities, and a pleasant
laugh. There were sixty-two members eventually
present, representing eleven different States, although
only forty were at this preliminary meeting. Their
object was one which would subject them to annoy
ance and insult, if not danger (threats had already
been made, and the police had notified them that
their meetings must be held in the day-time, as they
could not protect them at night). Accordingly, it was
thought best to try to secure a presiding officer from
among the prominent philanthropists in the city. So
six or seven of the members were delegated to wait
upon Thomas Wistar and Robert Vaux, wealthy
Quakers. Of their call upon the latter gentleman,
Samuel J. May says : " I wish I had some wit that I
might be able to do justice to the scene. But I need
not help you to see it in all its ludicrousness. There
were at least six of us — Beriah Green, Evan Lewis,
editor of the anti-slavery journal in Philadelphia,
called the ' Advocate of Truth/ Eppingham L. Ca-
pron, Lewis Tappan, John G. Whittier, and myself —
sitting around a richly furnished parlor, gravely
arguing by turns with the wealthy occupant, to per
suade him that it was his duty to come and be the

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. 87

most prominent one in a meeting of men already
denounced as ' fanatics, amalgamationists, disor-
ganizers, disturbers of the peace, and dangerous
enemies of the country.' Of course our suit was un
successful. We came away mortified much more
because we had made such a request than because it
had been denied. As we left the door, Beriah Green
said in his most sarcastic tone,' If there is not timber
amongst ourselves big enough to make a president
of, let us get along without one, or go home and stay
there until we have grown up to be men.'"

At the meeting next morning, in the Adelphi
Theatre, Beriah Green was chosen president, and
Whittier and Tappan secretaries. Mr. Whittier has
sketched some of the more prominent persons pres
ent, many of whom were young men, enthusiastic
and solemnly consecrated to the cause. Beriah
Green is described as an eloquent speaker, "a fresh-
faced, sandy-haired, rather common-looking man " ;
then there was the genial, large-hearted, and brave
Samuel May ; " that tall, gaunt, swarthy man, erect,
eagle-faced, upon whose somewhat martial figure the
Quaker coat seemed a little out of place, was Lindley
Coates, known in all eastern Pennsylvania as a stern
enemy of slavery ; that slight, eager man, intensely
alive in every feature and gesture, was Thomas
Shipley, who for thirty years had been the protector
of the free colored people of Philadelphia; . . .
beside him sat Thomas Whitson, of the Hicksite
school of Friends, fresh from his farm in Lancaster
County, dressed in plainest homespun, his tall form
surmounted by a shock of unkempt [brown] hair,
the odd obliquity of his vision contrasting strongly

88 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

with the clearness and directness of his spiritual in
sight. [When he spoke, says Mr. McKim, "his
matter was solid and clear as a bell, and was more
over pat to the point in question."] Elizur Wright,
the young professor of a Western college, who had
lost his place by his bold advocacy of freedom, with
a look of sharp concentration in keeping with an
intellect keen as a Damascus blade, closely watched
the proceedings through his spectacles, opening his
mouth only to speak directly to the purpose."

Directly in front of Mr. Whittier, who sat on the
platform, was Joshua Coffin, his old teacher. The
best speech in the Convention, all allowed, was made
by Lucretia Mott, whose marvelously beautiful,
sharp-cut, and intellectual face was radiant with
thought. She was dressed in plain but rich Quaker
costume, and had a dignified and earnest manner.
Only on the subject of slavery was her habitual
placidity of manner disturbed. When she first rose
to speak, she hesitated in deference to the supposable
prejudices of the non-Quaker part of the audience,
among whom it was then an unheard of thing for a
woman to speak in public. But Beriah Green called
out encouragingly, " Go on, ma'am, we shall all be
glad to hear you." And " Go on, go on ! " was echoed
by many more.

A Constitution was written out and adopted, and
officers chosen. Mr. Garrison sat up all night in the
attic of his colored host, Lewis Evans, to draft the
Declaration of Sentiments, which urged immediate
emancipation as a moral duty, to be attained by
peaceful measures, and conceded the right of the
separate States to manage their own domestic

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. 89

interests, asserting, however, that it was the duty of
the general government to suppress the slave-trade
between the several States, and to abolish slavery
altogether in that territory over which it has exclusive
jurisdiction. After the Declaration had been dis
cussed, amended, and engrossed on parchment, the
sixty-two members (twenty-one of whom were
Quakers) signed it one by one. The oldest of the
signers, David Thurston, of Maine, lived to see the
emancipation of the slaves. Mr. Whittier's words in
relation to the Declaration have often been quoted :
" I set a higher value on my name as appended to the
Anti-slavery Declaration of 1833 than on the title-page
of any book." In the little study at Amesbury hangs
a copy of the Declaration, in a frame made of wood
from Pennsylvania Hall. Of this Hall more anon.

In December, 1863, the thirtieth anniversary of the
founding of the American Anti-slavery Society was
held in Philadelphia, and interesting addresses were
given by Mr. Garrison, J. Miller McKim, and Lu-
cretia Mott.1 In 1883, the fiftieth anniversary was
celebrated (after a fashion) in the same city. Only
three of the original signers of the Declaration were
alive ; namely, Robert Purvis, Elizur Wright, and
John G. Whittier. The latter could not come, and
sent a letter of regret, so that the meeting consisted
of two persons, — Robert Purvis the chairman, and
Elizur Wright the audience.

The years 1834 and 1835 are often spoken of in
anti-slavery writings as the mob years. Mr. Whittier

1 Stenographic report of the proceedings in " Liberator," Dec.
25, 1863, including an interesting letter by Whittier.

90 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

suffered in two of the mobs and riots of these years,
and was present at a third. In 1834 the mobs in New
York City were so numerous and violent that the
time in which they occurred is spoken of as the
Reign of Terror. In 1835 the post-office of Charleston,
South Carolina, was broken open by citizens, and all
papers judged by them to be of an inflammatory nature
were seized and burned. This act was condoned by
the United States authorities. At the famous mob
bing of Garrison in Boston, October 21, 1835, Mr.
Whittier was present, being then in Boston with his
sister Elizabeth, his duty as a member of the legis
lature requiring his presence there. He was at the
State House on Beacon Hill when the mobbing took
place ; and he at once hastened down to the old
State House where the broadcloth mobocrats were
surging wildly to and fro in the attempt to secure
possession of the person of Mr. Garrison. After he
was lodged in jail, he was visited by Mr. Whittier
and other friends, who found him to be in good heart.
Mr. Whittier was staying with his sister at the house
of Samuel J. May, and, hearing that the crowd had
threatened to attack the house, he saw his sister
safely bestowed for the night at another friend's, and
he and Mr. May passed a sleepless night in the lat-
ter's dwelling. Harriet Martineau, in her "Views of
Slavery," is amazed at the indifference shown by the
"respectable" classes toward this outrage ; and sore
amazed, too, was young Wendell Phillips, who wit
nessed it : the mob decided his life-work. Miss
Martineau writes that an eminent lawyer of Boston
said to her: —

"' Oh, there was no mob. I was there myself, and

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. QI

saw that they were all gentlemen. They were all in
fine broadcloth.'

" * Not the less a mob for that,' said I.

" ' Why, they protected Garrison. He received no
harm. They protected Garrison.'

" ' From whom, or what ? '

" ' Oh, they would not really hurt him. They only
wanted to show that they would not have such a
person live among them.'"

We are next called upon to notice two mobs that
occurred farther north, and both on the same even
ing. In the Haverhill mob Mr. Whittier's sister
Elizabeth was in danger of her life ; and in that of
Concord, New Hampshire, directed against Mr. Whit-
tier himself and his friend George Thompson (the
English orator, afterwards member of Parliament),
these two men were in serious danger. At Haverhill,
it was a Sunday evening lecture by Samuel J. May
that brought out the lewd fellows of the baser sort.
Amid terrible yells and other noises a stone came
crashing through the window, after the lecture had
begun, and struck a lady on the head. She uttered
a shriek, and fell bleeding into the arms of her sister.
Mr. May closed the meeting, and escaped by walking
out between Elizabeth Whittier and the daughter of
a wealthy and determined citizen of the place.

The mob-ordeal through which Whittier and
George Thompson passed in Concord, New Hamp
shire, in 1835, was perhaps not excelled in thrilling
and picturesque incident by any other during the
anti-slavery struggle.1 It happened in this wise ;

I have constructed the narrative of the Concord mob not only

92 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

George Thompson, the English lecturer, was visiting
Mr. Whittier at Haverhill; and, thinking they would
not be recognized, they determined to take a drive
up into New Hampshire to visit N. P. Rogers. They
stopped over night in Concord at the house of George
Kent, a brother-in-law of Mr. Rogers. After they had
gone, Mr. Kent, being an Abolitionist, determined
to try to hire a hall for a meeting, to be held when the
friends should return. Accordingly, it was arranged
that they should be back on the Friday following.
The use of the Court House was obtained for the
meeting, and handbills were posted announcing that
George Thompson and John G. Whittier would
address the citizens, setting forth the aims and views
of the Abolitionists. Now, nobody had anything
against the little-known young man Whittier ; but
the mention of Thompson created tremendous excite
ment and wrath ; for it was then the implicit belief of
the people that Thompson, "the carpet-bagger," was
an emissary of the British Government, sent over here
to foster dissension between North and South, and

from a description of it given to me by Mr. Whittier himself
some years ago, but from the accounts of others to whom he has
told the story. My thanks are due to the D. Lothrop Co., of Bos
ton, for the use of material embodied in their " Whittier" ; I am
also indebted to Underwood's "Whittier"; to reminiscences of
Mrs. Julia Ward Ho\re (" Cosmopolitan," July, 1889); to Rossiter
Johnson's "Short History of Secession" ; ihe reminiscences of
John M. Barbour (Boston " Transcript," August, 1889) ; letter of
Mr. Whittier to J.W. Powell (New York "Tribune," 1885); a letter
by the same to the Haverhill "Gazette," reprinted in the " Liber
ator," Oct. 3, '35 ; and Bouton's " History of Concord," pp. 434,
435. which is good for names and dates, but glosses over or is
silent about the worst features of the outrage.

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. 93

so cripple our industries. The indignation of the
townsmen was so strong that Gen. Robert Dana,
chairman of the Board of Selectmen, called on
George Kent, and advised that the meeting should
not be held, and directed that the door of the Court
House be locked.

Nevertheless, at the appointed time, the Abolition
ists and their opponents began to assemble around
the building. Whittier and Thompson had arrived
and put up at George Kent's beautiful residence ;
and, not knowing that their arrival had been bruited
abroad, Whittier, in company with Mr. C. Hoag (a
Quaker) and editor Joseph H. Kimball, started just
at dusk down the street. As they passed along the
principal thoroughfare, they met a large concourse of
men all crazy with liquor, and shouting and yelling
furiously. They had just subjected to rough treat
ment a poor traveling Quaker preacher who was
passing through the town. They took him to be
Whittier, the Abolitionist.

"The good people," writes Mr. Whittier, "were
lashing each other into a fine frenzy, cursing the Abo
litionists as Federalists, etc. The cry was raised,
' To George Kenfs and the wine in his cellar ! ' Fear
ing an attack on our friend's house, we turned to go
back and give warning of the danger. But our
friends, the mobites ["our friends, the enemy ! "] fol
lowed us, and insisted that I, notwithstanding my
Quaker coat, must be the identical incendiary and
fanatic, George Thompson. A regular shower of
harmless curses followed, and soon after another
equally harmless shower of stones [dirt, and gravel].
These missiles were hurled with some force, and

94 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

might have done us some injury, had not those who
projected them been somewhat overdone by their
patriotic exertions in drinking destruction to the
Abolitionists."

We know from other sources that Mr. Whittier's
hat was knocked off and lost, and that he was bruised
in the face by a large stone hurled at him. He was
afterwards told by one of the mobbers that it was
their intention to catch him and paint his face black.
As the trio were retreating, Whittier heard an Irish
man say, " They 've killed the Englishman, and now
they 're going for the Quaker."

The pelted three were followed up Washington
Street and down State, where they found it necessary
to take shelter in the house of the Hon. William A.
Kent. Although he was not an Abolitionist, the
rioters knew him to be a brave man. He barred his
door, and addressed the crowd, assuring them they
had mistaken their man, that George Thompson was
not in the house, and that they should have Whittier
only over his dead body.

In the meantime it had grown dark ; and Whittier,
remembering the remark of the Irishman in the
crowd concerning Thompson, became so anxious as
to his fate that he borrowed a hat, succeeded in
passing the enemy's lines, and arrived safe at George
Kent's, where he found Mr. Thompson unhurt and
cheerful.

After some delay on the part of the mob, the cry
" Onward ! " was raised, and they moved off to
George Kent's. After some stone-throwing and
much blasphemy, they were decoyed away by a
stratagem. But after parading the town for an hour

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. 95

or two, " refreshed with Deacon Giles's best," they
once more returned (having discovered the trick),
provided with drums, fifes, muskets, and a cannon,
and threatened to blow up the house if the d — d
Abolitionists were not delivered up to them, in the
meantime keeping up a continuous uproar of bray
ing, cat-calling, and swearing.

Now, it so happened that a little group of anti-
slavery people were met that evening at George
Kent's, — among them being two nieces of Daniel
Webster. They all felt that the lives of Whittter and
Thompson were in danger, and that they ought to
try to get away. To this proposal Whittier, at least,
was able to agree unhesitatingly ; for he had always
had a nervous dread, not of death, but of suffering
gross personal indignities. The mob filled the street
just below Mr. Kent's carriage-gate, leaving a way of
possible escape through it. Accordingly, the horse
and carriage were drawn up quietly in the shadow of
the house. It was a bright moonlight night, and the
glint of the musket-barrels could be seen just below.
Suddenly the two friends jumped into the carriage,
the gate was opened, and the horse driven off at a
gallop amid the yells and shots of the rioters.

After the escape, these fellows paraded an effigy
through the streets, and afterwards burned it in the
State House yard, concluding the orgie with a dis
play of fire-works and discharges of cannon.

The two friends left the city by way of Hook-
set Bridge, the only way open to them, and took the
road to Haverhill. They had received minute and
careful directions from their friends, and got further
directions at the house of an anti-slavery man three

96 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

miles out from Concord. In the morning they
stopped at a tavern to give themselves and the horse
a breakfast. While they were eating, the landlord
entertained them with a report of the Haverhill mob.
Said one of the friends to the host, —

" What kind of a fellow is this Whittier ? "
" Oh, he 's an ignorant sort of chap, a Quaker
farmer."

" And who is this Thompson they 're talking
about ? "

" Him ? He 's a man sent over here by the British
government to make trouble between the North and
the South."

As the two gentlemen were stepping into the
carriage, Whittier, with one foot on the step, turned
and said to the landlord : —

" You 've been talkin' about Thompson and
Whittier. This is Mr. Thompson, and I 'm Whittier.
Good morning."

" And, jumping into the carriage " (said Mr. Whittier
to the writer, with a twinkle in his eye), " we stood
not on the order of our going." The good Boniface
looked stupefied with wonder. " And for all I know,"
said the poet, " he 's standing there still with his
mouth open."

After this adventure, Mr. Thompson was kept
quietly at the Whittier farm-house for a couple of
weeks. For the indignities he suffered at Concord,
Whittier had ample revenge, in that stinging way in
which men of the pen have always defended their
sensibilities; namely, by the publication of a brace
of satirical ballads, — the " Letter Supposed to be
Written by the Chairman of the Central Clique at

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. 97

Concord " (1846), and the following verses, which,
indeed, appeared a year previous to the mobbing of
Whittier and Thompson, but were published in the
first edition of the poems in 1837, and have not since
been reprinted :—

APOLOGY

TO THE " CHIVALROUS SONS OF THE SOUTH," FOR THE FORMATION OF

THE LADIES' ANTI-SLAVERY SOCIETY, IN c D, N. H.

Most chivalrous gentlemen, pardon us, pray,

And pity our present condition, —
The lady fanatics have carried the day,

And openly preach Abolition !
The petticoat-plotters, with might and with main,
Are tearing the bonds of the Union in twain !

We knew, to our sorrow, that over their tea
These ladies, for months, had been brewing

A plot to dismember the Union, and free
Your slaves, to their positive ruin:

But who would have dreamed that they ever would dare,

In the face of New Hampshire, their purpose declare !

Oh, where had the fear of the P 1 gone

From the eyes of these turbulent ladies ?
And where Parson F k's indignation and scorn

Which overwhelmed all, when he made his
Great speech at our Democrat gathering, when
Abolition was working its way with the men ?

Alack and alas ! that we live to relate

How these Amazons gathered together,
Consulting each other, in solemn debate,

About loosing the slave from his tether ;
And gravely resolving your negroes to be
Created like all of us— equal and free.

7

98 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

But think not, dear sirs, that with conduct so base

" The Democracy " rested in quiet :
No, it rose in its strength to redeem from disgrace

The town by a regular riot !

And, surrounding the house where the mischief went on,
Plied well the " fanatics " with brickbat and stone.

Through door and through window our missiles went in,

Disturbing the laces and trimming, —
Oh, would that " our dear Southern brethren " had seen

How " Democracy " pelted the women !
And had heard, midst the crashing of brickbats, its shout-
" Hurrah for the Union ! — you women, clear out ! '•

Yet it grieves us to say that in spite of our great

And most patriotic exertion,
These petticoat-traitors regarded our feat

As merely a cause of diversion ;
And still they went on, without let or disaster,
To spoil " the relations of servant and master."

But, though foiled in its efforts to drive away

This bevy of gossip and beauty,
" The Democracy " feels, and rejoices to say,

That it fully performed its duty ;

And it trusts that its friends will with cheerfulness own
That all that it could do, m safety, was done !

We are sadly disheartened, and all in a fret —

Parson F k is about to absquatalize,

And B — t — n beneath the State's Prison debt

Is hiding himself from mortal eyes ;

Even H 11 cannot help us — his hands are too full,

Making C — h — n a " Democrat died in the wool."

WHITE SLAVE, DOUGHFACE, & Co.1

The verses first appeared in the "Liberator" Jan. j, 1835.

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. 99

In February, 1836, some five months after the
event of the mob, we find Whittier addressing an
open letter to Edward Everett (printed in " Liber
ator," February 20, of that year).

" To EDWARD EVERETT, GOVERNOR OF MASSACHUSETTS : —
" Exercising, while yet I may, the unsurrendered right of a
free citizen of Massachusetts, with due respect for thy official
station, but with the frankness which becomes a republican, I
feel myself called upon to address thee, in relation to that por
tion of thy late Message which is devoted to the subject of
Slavery."

Whittier disagrees with Governor Everett as to his
statement that at the time the United States Consti
tution was formed the question of slavery was an
open one. He affirms that the signers simply left
the slavery question as it was, without at all desiring
to perpetuate it. In proof, he cites the fact that
Benjamin Franklin, although a signer of both the
Declaration and the Constitution, also signed another
Constitution not long after ; namely, that of the
Pennsylvania Society for the Abolition of Slavery.
He continues : —

"George Washington was another signer of the Constitution.
I know that he was a slaveholder ; and I have not forgotten
the emotions which swelled my bosom, when in the metropolis

and refer to a mob which occurred in Concord, New Hampshire,
Nov. 14, 1834 (not noticed in the " History of Concord," but date
recoverable from "Liberator" Dec. 13, '34, which contains an

article on the affair). "Parson F k" is undoubtedly Rev.

Wilbur Fisk, one of the most ''abusive and malignant" of the
opponents of George Thompson. "C — h — n" is evidently for
Calhoun.

100 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

of New England, the Cradle of Liberty, a degenerate son of the
Pilgrims pointed to his portrait, which adorns the wall, with
the thrice repeated exclamation, — ' That Slaveholder ! ' I saw
the only blot on the otherwise bright and spotless character of
the Father of his Country held to open view — exposed by
remorseless hands to sanction a system of oppression and
blood. It seemed to me like sacrilege. I looked upon those
venerable and awful features, while the echoes, once wakened
in that old Hall by the voice of ancient Liberty, warm from the
lips of Adams and Hancock and the fiery heart of James Otis,
gave back from wall and gallery the exulting cry of 'Slave
holder,' half expecting to see the still canvas darken with a
frown, and the pictured lips part asunder with words of rebuke
and sorrow.1 I felt it, as did hundreds more, on that occasion,
to be a reproach and a cruel insult to the memory of the illus
trious dead. Did not the speaker know that the dying testi
mony of Washington was against slavery ? " 9

1 The famous sentence of Wendell Phillips — " I thought those
pictured lips would have broken into voice, to rebuke the recreant
American " — was clearly plagiarized, by an unconscious act of mem
ory, from the above eloquent passage by Whittier written nearly
two years previous to the Faneuil Hall speech by Phillips. Young
Phillips had been mightily aroused by the Garrison mob, some
months before the date of Whittier's open letter to Everett, and
had resolved to devote his life to the cause of Freedom. He had
undoubtedly, therefore, read Whittier's strong and manly letter to
the Governor, and remembered, dimly, the passage in question.

2 By the will of Washington all his slaves were to be freed on
the death of his wife. It was his ardent desire to free his own
slaves during his life, but their intermarriage with the dower slaves
of his wife caused " insuperable difficulties," — so he said. It is
evident that both he and his wife were guilty of weakness and
cowardice in this matter. There were no insuperable difficulties in
the way of doing right. However, we must have charity. No
doubt they acted in accordance with all the light given them. To
an aristocratic Virginia gentleman and lady of the eighteenth

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. IOI

Whittier then quotes from several letters of Wash
ington, in which that statesman expresses an ardent
desire for the abolition of slavery : —

" I come now to that portion of thy remarks which of all
others seems most reprehensible. After admitting the repug
nance of our people to laws impairing the liberty of speech
and of the press, ' the patriotism of all classes of citizens is in
voked' ' to abstain from a discussion 'of the subject of Slavery.
Abstain from discussion ! — What more does the Holy Alliance
require ? — What more does Gov. McDuffie demand ? Is this
the age — are ours the laws — are the sons of the Pilgrims the
men — for advice like this ? — What ! — when the whole world is

century, living in something like patriarchal or feudal style, on an
isolated estate, emancipation presented itself in a different light
from what it does to us now. There is extant a curious open letter
addressed to Washington on this subject by a certain Edward Rush-
ton, of Liverpool, in 1797, two years before Washington's death.
The reason why Washington returned his pamphlet to Rushton
" under cover, without a syllable in reply," will appear from the
following sentence in it : " The hypocritical bawd who preaches
chastity, yet lives by the violation of it, is not more truly disgust
ing than one of your slave-holding gentry bellowing in favor of
democracy." Rushton's letter is not mentioned in any of the
numerous Lives of Washington, which, like nearly all biographies,
are careful whitewashes. In 1835 a visitor to Mount Vernon
found several of Washington's freed slaves — Sambo Anderson,
Dick Jasper, and others — engaged in gratuitous work for the im
provement of the turf about his tomb. They stated that they had
offered their services as the only way in which they could show
their love for the man who had been more than a father to them
(" New Eng. Anti-si. Almanac," 1841, p. 2). See in " Liberator,"
March 22, '34, a long letter from Washington's degenerate nephew,
who tries to excuse himself for selling fifty of his slaves south, and
separating wives and husbands. He talks of them as if they were
so many hogs, " my property," etc.

102 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

moved — when the very foundations of principalities and powers
are upheaving with the one great impulse of the age — the ir
resistible workings of Free Inquiry — is it in Massachusetts,
over the graves of Adams and Warren and Hancock and Otis,
that the spirit of free investigation is to be arrested and stricken
dumb ? ... Is this the advice of a republican magistrate
to a community of freemen ? Far fitter is it for the banks of
the Bosphorus and the Neva than for those of the Connecticut
and the Merrimack."

Whittier then alludes to Edward Everett's atro
cious assertion of his willingness to buckle on a
knapsack and shoulder a musket to help fight the
battles of the slaveholders, and closes with the re
fusal to yield the home-bred right of free discussion
to the demands of interested politicians. " We can
neither permit the gag to be thrust in our mouths by
others, nor deem it the part of * patriotism ' to place
it there ourselves."

The next mob by which Mr. Whittier, in common
with others, was made a sufferer was that which was
guilty of the burning of the Pennsylvania Hall, in
Philadelphia, in the spring of 1838. He had been
appointed in 1836 one of the Secretaries of the Amer
ican Anti-slavery Society, and had gone to New York
City in the autumn of 1837, remaining there three
months. His colleagues were Henry B. Stanton and
Theodore D. Weld. Late in the autumn he went on
to Philadelphia to write for the " Pennsylvania Free
man," a paper that had formerly been edited by
Benjamin Lundy, under the title of the " National .
Enquirer." Mr. Whittier became editor of the " Free
man " in March, 1838. He tells us that at this time
he used often to be attracted from the heat and

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. 103

bustle of the city by the quiet and beautiful scenery
of the village of Frankford, where was the residence
of Thomas Chalkley, the West India merchant and
Friends' minister, " gentlest of skippers, rare sea-
saint," who is spoken of in "Snow-Bound," and in
Whittier's " Chalkley Hall." In Philadelphia, too, he
met his old friends, the Thayers, of Haverhill.

The little group of anti-slavery people in Phila
delphia had united with other progressive philan
thropists in the building of a large hall for free dis
cussion. It stood on the corner of Sixth and Cherry
Streets, near the Adelphi Theatre. It had cost $40,-
ooo; and the painter, plumber, and clockmaker were
just giving it the last touches when a three days' con
vention — May 15, 16, and 17 — was begun in it by way
of dedication ceremony. Garrison, Burleigh,Whittier,
and other leading Abolitionists were present. The
building was large and commodious, the main hall
(with the galleries) having a seating capacity of two
thousand. On the front were to be seen, in large
gilded letters, occupying nearly the whole width of
the structure, the words PENNSYLVANIA HALL.
On the ground floor were various offices, including
the anti-slavery bookstore, and the office of Whittier's
" Freeman," which he had just had removed thither.

During the first day's session there was little dis
turbance. On the second day was held an Anti-
slavery Convention of American Women in the new
hall, five hundred women being present. William
Lloyd Garrison opened the meeting with a short
speech. Attempts were made by a mob outside to
break up the convention by hurling showers of stones
against the windows. The glass was broken, but the

104 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

inside blinds prevented the stones from entering the
room. Amid the uproar and confusion, Mrs. Maria
W. Chapman, of Boston, rose and addressed the audi
ence. Sarah Grimke wrote at the time: " She is the
most beautiful woman I ever saw; the perfection of
sweetness and intelligence being blended in her
speaking countenance. She arose amid the yells and
shouts of the infuriated mob, the crash of windows,
and the hurling of stones. She looked to me like an
angelic being descended amid that tempest of pas
sion in all the benignity of conscious superiority." 1
The next speaker was Angelina Grimke Weld, who,
three days previous, had been married to Theodore D.
Weld.2 She spoke for over an hour on the sin of
slavery. The influence of her pure, beautiful presence
and quiet manner was such that in a few moments the
noise within the hall had ceased. But stones continued
to crash against the windows. " What is a mob ? " she
said. " What would the breaking of every window be ?
Any evidence that we are wrong, or that slavery is a
good or wholesome institution ? What if the mob
should now burst in upon us, break up our meeting,
and commit violence upon our persons, — would this
be anything compared with what the slaves endure ? "

At the close of the meeting each colored woman
present was taken for protection between two white
ones ; and thus, amid showers of missiles and jeering
words, they passed out.

The immediate cause of the disturbances of this

1 Life of the Grimke Sisters, p. 239.

2 Mr. Whittier is so strict a Quaker that he obeyed the rules of
the church, which forbade his attendance at this marriage of two
dear friends of his, one of whom, the lady, was a Quaker.

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. 105

day and of the crowning catastrophe of the day fol
lowing lay in the spread of a ridiculous rumor that
the meeting was held in the interests of amalgamation.
Amalgamation was the great bugbear (or cantingly
feigned to be such) in those days among the unedu
cated populace. Not to believe that Abolitionists
were all rank amalgamationists was as great a heresy
as disbelief in the Plot was during the Lord George
Gordon riots. Several incidents unfortunately tended
to inflame the popular ideas on this occasion. A
wealthy and educated young colored farmer hap
pened to come to the Women's Convention in a car
riage with his wife, who was darker than himself ;
whereupon the report went out that a white man had
brought a colored girl with him in his carriage to the
hall. Again, the wife and sister-in-law of a respect
able colored citizen (who was the son of a governor
of one of the Southern States) were seen walking
with their own cousin, who was darker than they, —
and the mob had it that a black man was seen walk
ing with two pretty white girls. Said the " Coloniza
tion Herald ": u In our quiet city of Philadelphia, in
which masquerades are forbidden by legislative
enactment, there has been, notwithstanding, a season
of carnival. Some hundreds of persons of both sexes
and all colors, the more prominent of whom were
white, black, and yellow, had agreed to keep high
festival in honor of a hybrid and piebald equality,
which they invoked in a new and spacious edifice
recently erected by some of their associates in the
idolatrous worship. . . . But when there was
seen here a black beau escorting two interesting and
pretty white females — there a white man, more advanced

106 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

in years, parading up and down a street with a sable
dame on each arm, and a procession in the most public
street of black and white duly intermixed [the trios of
women before mentioned] the people began to
express their dissatisfaction."

All through the next day the meetings in Pennsyl
vania Hall were disturbed by the mob. The presid
ing officer was Dr. Daniel Neall. An incident of the
day is thus related by Mr. Whittier: —

"I was standing near Dr. Neall while the glass of
the windows, broken by missiles, showered over him,
and a deputation of the rioters forced its way to the
platform and demanded that the meeting should be
closed at once. Dr. Neall drew up his tall form to
its utmost height.

" ' I am here,' he said, 'the president of this meet
ing, and I will be torn in pieces before I leave my
place at your dictation. Go back to those who sent
you. I shall do my duty.'"

About sunset, a mob of twenty-five thousand men
surrounding the hall, the mayor, John Swift, appeared,
and told the president that, if the keys of the building
were given to him, he could induce the rioters to dis
perse. This was done, and he spoke as follows to the
crowd: " There will be no meeting here this evening.
The house has been given up to me. The managers
had the right to hold the meeting, but as good citizens
they have, at my request, suspended their meeting
for this evening. We never call out the military
here ! We do not need such measures. Indeed, I
would, fellow-citizens, look upon you as my police !
I trust you will abide by the laws and keep order.
I now bid you farewell for the night."

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. IOJ

The crowd of course understood the double mean
ing conveyed in these crafty and ambiguous words,
and immediately shouted, "The mayor won't hurt
us — the mayor is our friend — the mayor hates Amal
gamation and Abolition as bad as we do ! "

About seven and a half o'clock the rioters (con
spicuous among whom were a number of Southern
medical students) burst open the door, broke out all
the windows to let the air have free circulation, tore
down the blinds and piled them around the speaker's
desk, adding books and papers from the basement,
then set fire to the heap, turned on the gas, and left
the room. The crowd gave a great shout of joy as
the smoke and flame appeared. The now thoroughly
alarmed mayor reappears with the High Sheriff; they
are hustled unceremoniously about by the crowd. A
number of hand fire-engines are tardily brought
along ; but the " gallant " firemen take their cue from
the crowd, and the exact truth is represented in the
quaint engraving by Sartain, in the pamphlet history
of the hall, where the firemen are shown throwing
streams of water upon every other building in the
vicinity except the hapless hall of liberty. " The fire-
companies," says a Southerner, writing to the Au
gusta " Chronicle," " repaired tardily to the scene of
action, and not a drop of water did they pour upon
that accursed Moloch until it was a heap of ruins.
Sir, it would have gladdened your heart to have be
held that lofty tower of mischief enveloped in
flames."

Whittier's office in the basement was looted, and
all his papers, books, and other property destroyed,
as were also Benjamin Lundy's effects, — his papers,

108 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

books, and all his clothing except what he was wear
ing at the time. The publication of the " Pennsyl
vania Freeman" was not, however, suspended, but
continued to be edited by Whittier for over a year.
The day after the fire, the members of the Anti-
slavery Society met by the smoking ruins, amid the
howling mob, and calmly transacted the business of
the day. The tumult continued for a week, during
which the Shelter for Colored Orphans was partially
burned. It was also the intention of the ruffians to
loot the house of James and Lucretia Mott. They
accordingly made preparations to receive the mob by
sending away the children and a part of their furni
ture. They then sat down in the parlor, with a few
neighbors, to await the result. About eight o'clock
in the evening the shouts of the mob could be heard
not far off, now here, now there ; but they finally
concluded to make the Home for the Orphans the
object of their attack, and so the Motts escaped.1

The next number of the " Pennsylvania Freeman "
contained a full account of the burning of the hall. a
I transcribe from Whittier's editorial a few glowing
sentences : —

" Not in vain, we trust, has the persecution fallen upon us.
Fresher and purer for the fiery baptism, the cause lives in our
hearts. . . . Woe unto us if we falter through the fear of
man ! . . . Citizens of Pennsylvania ! your rights as well
as ours have been violated in this dreadful outrage. . . .
In the heart of your free city, within view of the Hall of Inde
pendence, whose spire and roof reddened in the flame of the

1 Life of the Motts by Mrs. Hallowell, p. 129.
9 Quoted in the " Liberator," June i, 1838.

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. 109

sacrifice [with shame, perhaps ?] the deed has been done, — and
the shout which greeted the falling ruin was the shout of Slavery
over the grave of Liberty. . . . Are we pointed to the smok
ing ruins of that beautiful temple of Freedom, which we fondly
hoped would have long echoed the noble and free sentiments
of a Franklin, a Rush, a Benezet, a Jay ; and as we look sadly
on its early downfall, are we bidden to learn hence the fate of
our own dwellings if we persevere ? Think not the intimation
will drive us from our post. . . . We feel that God has
called us to this work, and if it be his purpose that we should
finish what we have begun, He can preserve us, though it be
as in the lions' den, or the sevenfold-heated furnace."

Whittier's lyrics of freedom were written in the
strength of his mature and seasoned manhood, and
were either read at anti-slavery gatherings or pub
lished in the Abolition papers of the time. They
often appeared anonymously, but were always
recognized, copied in paper after paper, and quoted
again and again in speeches and essays. Occasion
ally, when recited in public meetings, their cutting
satire would cause the tumult of the men of Alsatia
to break out with redoubled fury. They were imi
tated freely and copiously by the poetlings of the
day, and the old files of newspapers contain many
and many a poem written in Whittier's honor by
these worthy people. As appeals to manhood and
womanhood and spurs to ideal action, — the slogans,
or war-cries, of the march, — the influence of Whittip.r's

voices of frppdpf" wag rWp anH pprrrmnpnf Like

grains of ambergris or pungent spices, they diffused
their fiery quality through the mind and stole softly
and unperceived into the heart. A whole generation
drew heroic nourishment from them, as the thirsty

110 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

roots of the willow draw water from the brook. In
many families Whittier's poems were learned by the.
children for declamation, and recited in concert
around their mother's knee.1 Said Prof. J. B. Thayer,
of Harvard College, to an instructor at the Friends'
School in Providence, in 1884, " Tell your boys and
girls that, however much they admire and love Whit-
tier, they cannot know what a fire and passion of
enthusiasm he kindled in the hearts of the little com
pany of anti-slavery boys and girls of my time, when
they read his early poems." And Thomas Wentworth
Higginson, in a poem to Whittier, writes: —

" At dawn of manhood came a voice to me
That said to startled conscience, ' Sleep no more ! '
* * * * * *

If any good to me or from me came

Through life, and if no influence less divine

Has quite usurped the place of duty's flame ;

If aught rose worthy in this heart of mine,

Aught that, viewed backward, wears no shade of shame ;

Bless thee, old friend ! for that high call was thine."

Shortly after the appearance of Whittier's superb
poem, " Massachusetts to Virginia," —

" We hear thy threats, Virginia ! thy stormy words and high
Swell harshly on the Southern winds which melt along our
sky," —

an imitative response, in the same metre, was printed.
Its allusions are very interesting as showing how
Whittier's lyrics influenced people: —

Lillie B. Chace Wyman, in " Atlantic Monthly," August, '89

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. Ill

" We greet thee, eldest sister, that from thy lip has broke
The voice of warning and rebuke, as if a prophet spoke —
Unshackled as the mountain winds that o'er thy valleys sweep,
And, mingling with the swelling waves, their ocean-anthem
keep.

" Our yeomanry have paused to catch the spirit-thrilling tone,
The poet's soul around thy words has beautifully thrown,
And the maiden stops her busy wheel to cast her flashing eye
Along the page that seems to ring the Bay State's banner cry.

" The schoolboy up among our hills has caught its words of

truth,

And shouts them with the fiery heart and eloquence of youth,
And moves the souls and stirs the blood of gray and aged men,
As if they heard the voice of Stark, or Langdon's words again." l

The following note to the '37 edition of the poems
was probably penned by Garrison, who is thought to
have edited the volume. The book was put forth in
Boston during Whittier's absence. The editor says :
" On the appearance of these stanzas [" Our fellow-
countrymen in chains ! "] in the ' Liberator,' it was
predicted by Garrison that * they would ring from
Maine to the Rocky Mountains,' and the prophecy
has been fulfilled. They have been circulated in
periodicals, quoted in addresses and orations, and
scattered broadcast over the land, beneath the kneel
ing slave and motto ' Am I not a man and a brother ? '
— the device of Cowper and the English Abolition-

1 Other metrical imitations were written from Vermont, Ohio,
and Pennsylvania. Indeed, their name was legion. Whittier
must have got pretty sick of these parrot-echoes before the fever
subsided.

112 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

ists.1 In this last form, they have roused the con
sciences of slaveholders in New Orleans, have been
held up to a Boston audience by the sophist Gurley,
after a fruitless endeavor to create a tumult by one
of his strong appeals to prejudice and selfishness,
and have been displayed by the noble-souled May
before a Massachusetts legislature, as a refutation of
the charge of incendiarism cast on the Abolitionists
by the legislature of the South."

A reviewer in 1848 said of the poems of freedom :
" We know nothing of the physical mould of this J. G.
Whittier ; but if he can speak his poems, breathing
into the delivery the same living fire which is em
bodied in them, and if he will do it, even in the
strongholds of conventionalism, in the hearing of
' brave men and fair women,' the former may restrain
their indignation at the wrong upon which he pours
his scathing reproof, and the latter may forbid their
tears to flow for the suffering which he commiserates,
if they can." a

There is a striking resemblance between the por
trait of Whittier and that of Ebenezer Elliott, the
English Corn-Law rhymer. Elliott's poems were
published in 1834 in book form, and were often
quoted in anti-slavery journals. There can be little
doubt that Whittier's style was influenced pretty
strongly by Elliott's. He and the Corn-Law rhymer
were both ardent admirers of Burns, and wrote many
of their reform poems in Burns's eight-line stanza.

1 The reference is to a huge broadside containing the poem, and
headed by the picture of a prodigious manacled black.
* D. March, in " New Englander," 1848, p. 63.

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. 113

Out of the half hundred or more of the voices of
freedom I would indicate the following round dozen
as by far the best, and would advise those first mak
ing Whittier's acquaintance to read and re-read these:
" The Virginia Slave-Mother's Lament," " Massachu
setts to Virginia," " The Branded Hand," " Paean,"
" Stanzas for the Times," " The Hunters of Men,"
" Clerical Oppressors," " The Slave-Ships," " Stanzas "
(u Our fellow-countrymen in chains ! "), " Ichabod,"
" The Rendition," and " Laus Deo ! " The American
who can read these splendid lyrics without quickened
pulse may consider that his patriotism and his moral
sense are dead beyond recall. " The Virginia Slave-
Mother's Lament," wrote John Bright to a friend in
this country, " has often brought tears to my eyes. It
is short, but it is worth a volume on the great ques
tion. . . . These few lines were enough to rouse
a whole nation to expel from among you the odious
crime of slavery."

The poem " Ichabod " (" So fallen ! so lost ! " etc.),
concerning Daniel Webster's notorious volte-face on
the slavery question, was much admired by Emerson.
It was written at a white heat of indignation, just
after Webster's famous yth of March speech, 1850,
in which he argued that no further restrictions on
the extension of slavery into the Territories of Cali
fornia and New Mexico were needed, that the Fugitive
Slave Law must be obeyed, that colonization of the
free negroes was desirable, and that the labors of the
Abolitionists had served only to fasten the system of
slavery more firmly than ever on the South. After
reading this speech, Whittier wrote to Garrison, " The
scandalous treachery of Webster and the backing he
8

114 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

has received from Andover and Harvard 1 show that
we have nothing to hope for from the great political
parties and religious sects." All Abolitionists re
ceived the blow with wrath and terror, but not with
surprise. Webster had been for ten years leaning
toward apostasy. I find in an old file of anti-slavery
papers (as early as 1840) such sentences as these :
" Daniel Webster has at length bowed the knee to
Baal" (Advocate)] "Daniel Webster, the 'champion
of the Constitution/ has at length consented to re
ceive the mark of the beast in his forehead " (Philan
thropist}', " he has at length yielded a freeman's birth
right for a chance at the Presidency " (Liberator].
Then when the final blow came, in 1850, "the Free-
Soil party quivered and sank for the moment be
neath the shock. The whole anti-slavery movement
recoiled."

But Mr. Whittier, at least, cherished no lasting re
sentment. He has stated that the poem was com
posed after an entirely sleepless night, and that, if he
had waited a couple of months, he probably should
not have written it. He thinks that, if Webster had
lived till the outbreak of the war, he would have in
evitably been found on the right side, and would
have recovered his ancient renown; and he has said
as much in his poem, "The Lost Occasion." Else
where he writes: —

"My admiration of the splendid personality and
intellectual power of the great Senator was never

1 An address of congratulation was presented to Webster, signed
by eight hundred prominent citizens of Massachusetts, including
Rufus Choate, Wm. H. Prescott, and Jared Sparks, and Prof.
C. C. Felton of Harvard College.

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. 1 15

stronger than when I laid down his speech, and, in
one of the saddest moments of my life, penned my
protest. I saw, as I wrote, with painful clearness, its
sure results, — the slave-power arrogant and defiant,
strengthened and encouraged to carry out its scheme
for the extension of its baleful system, or the disso
lution of the Union, the guaranties of personal liberty
in the free States broken down, and the whole coun
try made the hunting-ground of slave-catchers. In
the horror of such a vision, so soon fearfully fulfilled,
if one spoke at all, he could only speak in tones of
stern and sorrowful rebuke." " Ichabod " should be
read in connection with the strong and indignant
"Stanzas for the Times: 1850," written on the same
subject. The poem " Ichabod " has been compared
to Browning's " Lost Leader": —

" Just for a handful of silver he left us,
Just for a riband to stick in his coat —

He alone breaks from the van and the freemen,
He alone sinks to the rear and the slaves.

Deeds will be done — while he boasts his quiescence,

Still bidding" crouch whom the rest bade aspire ;
Blot out his name, then, record one lost soul more."

Mr. Stedman has also compared, or rather con
trasted, " Ichabod " with William W. Lord's remark
able lines "On the Defeat of a Great Man," suggested
by Folk's victory over Henry Clay in the presidential
campaign of 1843 : —

Il6 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

Fallen ! How fallen ? States and empires fall ;

O'er towers and rock-built walls,
And perished nations, floods to tempests call
With hollow sound along the sea of time :

The great man never falls, —
He lives, he towers aloft, he stands sublime ;

They fall who give him not
The honor here that suits his future name, —

They die and are forgot.

O Giant loud and blind ! the great man's fame
Is his own shadow, and not cast by thee :

A shadow that shall grow
As down the heaven of time the sun descends,

And on the world shall throw
His godlike image, till it sinks where blends
Time's dim horizon with Eternity.

There are a few other of the anti-slavery and reform
pieces that need words of comment or illustration
other than those given by Whittier in his latest
edition.

For example, " The Burial of Barber " (spelled
"Barbour" in early editions). Thos. W. Barber, the
second martyr of freedom in Kansas, was shot dead,
Dec. 6, 1855, near Lawrence, by Geo. W. Clarke,
Indian agent. The impressive funeral services were
held in the dining-room of a newly erected building.
The walls of the room were of rough unplastered
limestone, and seats of plank were placed in rows its
entire length. The funeral cortege was a long and
solemn one, stretching nearly a mile over the prairie,
many riding in ox-carts and mule-carts, and the
soldiers marching with arms reversed.1

1 " Annals of Kansas," 1856.

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. 117

" The Branded Hand " refers to Captain Jonathan
Walker of Harwich, Massachusetts. While working
as a railroad contractor in Florida (having emigrated
thither with his family), he became interested in the
slaves, employed them, treated them like men, and
won their affection. In 1844 he took seven of these
slaves in his open boat south along the coast from
Pensacola, hoping to get them to one of the West
India Islands. But he fell very ill, it being hot July,
and the whole party was captured. Walker was put
in irons, carried back to Pensacola, subjected to the
ignominy of the pillory, branded on his right hand
by a United States marshal with the letters S. S.
(slave-stealer), kept for eleven months chained to the
floor of a cell bare of all furniture, ill and emaciated
as he was, and only released after the payment of his
fine of $150 by Northern Abolitionists. The brand
ing was done by binding his hand to a post and ap
plying a red-hot iron to the palm, which left the
letters about an inch long and an eighth of an inch
deep, as shown in the cut.1 The brander was a Maine
man named Dorr, — another proof of the frequent
assertion that New Englanders made the crudest
slaveholders. " Lift up that manly right hand," cries
the poet, —

" Hold it up before our sunshine, up against our northern air, —
Ho ! men of Massachusetts, for the love of God, look there !

1 The cut is from a daguerreotype of Captain Walker's hand,
owned by Dr. Henry I. Bowditch. Reproduced in the " Liberator,"
xv. 132, to accompany Whittier's poem on the subject ; also given
in one of the anti-slavery almanacs.

Il8 JOHN G. WHITTIER. .

Take it, henceforth, for your standard, like the Bruce's heart
of yore,

In the dark strife closing round ye, let that hand be seen be
fore ! "

Captain Walker removed to Muskegon, Michigan.
His branded hand got him much respect among his
townsmen, and at his death he received marked civic
honors. A granite monument costing $700 was
erected over his grave by Photius Fiske of Boston, —
that eccentric, good, rich little Greek fellow, whose
benefactions to unfortunates have been innumerable,
and who has also erected a monument to Charles T.
Torrey in Auburn's Field of God, and others to other
anti-slavery martyrs. When his tomb and theirs are
mossy with age, may some Old Immortality be as
kind to them as he has been to the memory of the
heroic dead!

Whittier's poem " Texas," as first printed, may be
seen in the " Liberator," April 19, 1844. One of its
stanzas was afterwards so altered as not to put the
North in the position of a people demanding dis
union. Then the following new lines were added: —

" Vainly shall your sand-wrought rope
Bind the starry cluster up,
Shattered over heaven's blue cope."

The phrases changed in other stanzas seem to me

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. lip

weakened. In the third triplet from the end, as the
poem now stands, the line " as the lost in Paradise "
was " as the damned in Paradise "; and a line in the
following cluster stood, " Freedom's brown and hon
est hand " (" brown " changed to " strong"). Other
lines in other poems have been clearly injured by re
vision, — as the first in the " Lines" on the Pinckney
Resolutions, " Men of the North-land ! where 's the
manly spirit," which originally read, " Now, by our
fathers' ashes ! where 's the spirit." 1

" Rantoul " was penned in grief over the death of
Robert Rantoul, the orator and statesman of Beverly,
Essex County, Massachusetts. He was a fellow-
member of Whittier in the Massachusetts legisla
ture in 1835. He became Webster's successor in
Congress, was a leader in the Free-Soil party, and a
man of rare political genius and promise.

" One day, along the electric wire

His manly word for Freedom sped ;

We came next morn : that tongue of fire

Said only, ' He who spake is dead ! ' "

"William Francis Bartlett " commemorates Gen
eral Bartlett, another brave and lamented soldier of
Essex County. He was the son of- a Boston merchant,
though born in Haverhill. He was appointed cap
tain in the 2oth Massachusetts Regiment while yet a
student at Harvard. He was in the battles of the

1 Good " Saint James " Freeman Clarke, in his Louisville " West
ern Messenger" of December, 1836, says the Pinckney lines are
" almost *>qual to anything in Campbell"! " Although no friend
of Abolitionism," he says, " we like good poetry on any and every
subject-'*

120 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

Wilderness, and lost a leg and was otherwise wounded
in the service. He died in 1876: —

" Mourn, Essex, on thy sea-blown shore

Thy beautiful and brave,
Whose failing hand the olive bore,
Whose dying lips forgave ! "

The poem " To Ronge " opens with the tremendous
apostrophe: —

" Strike home, strong-hearted man ! Down to the root
Of old oppression sink the Saxon steel !
Thy work is to hew down. In God's name then
Put nerve into thy task ! "

Jean Ronge (Le Cure Ronge) of Silesia may be
styled the founder of the Old Catholic movement of
religious reform, of which Dr. Doellinger is a more
recent leader. In 1844 Ronge published a remarkable
letter (said to have been written by another) in the
" Feuilles Nationales," in which he ridiculed the
superstitious credulity of the hundreds of thousands
of pilgrims who were visiting Treves, by invitation
of its Bishop, Arnoldi, to see the seamless robe of
Christ. Ronge advocated complete separation of all
true Christians from the Church of Rome, and a new
organization was actually formed. But in 1848 came
the democratic uprisings all over Europe, turning
men's thoughts into new channels. Ronge adopted
radical views, was made a member of the National
Assembly at Frankfort, but in '49 (in consequence
of certain incoherent articles published by him) was
compelled to fly, with many other political exiles, to

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. 121

the shores of England.1 He had married a divorced
lady, the sister-in-law of Carl Schurz. Martineau
and other Unitarians in England had thought highly
of Ronge, but his personal presence and ways disen
chanted them, and they soon dropped him. He seems
not to have had the Lutherian qualities necessary
for leadership, although Whittier in America hailed
his movement as one calculated to advance the inter
ests of freedom in Europe.

One of the most graphic of the slavery lyrics is the
poem uTo Governor McDuffie," which has not been
reprinted since 1838 or 1840. Probably it is regarded
by the poet as too personal, too severe in tone, to say
nothing of its two blunders in grammar and quan
tity. But poets are not always the best judges of
the merits of their own work. There is a fierce
sharp rhythm and clash as of steel in this poem, — a
kind of

" Suono 1' un brando e 1' altro, or basso, or alto," —

which, joined with the fact that Whittier's friends
have besought him to include it in his works, leads
me to venture to present it here. The full statement
by Governor George McDuffie, as given in his mes
sage of 1835, was this: " Domestic slavery, instead of
being a political evil, is the corner-stone of our
republican edifice," — a sufficiently exasperating state
ment, surely, to an Abolitionist. McDuffie's dictum
was "indorsed without reserve " by Governor Ham-

1 Larousse, " Dictionnaire Universal. " The best article about
Ronge appeared in the " Unitarian Review," of Boston, January,
1888, by John Fret well.

122 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

mond of South Carolina, It was McDuffie who said
that "the institution of slavery supersedes the
necessity of an order of nobility."

TO GOVERNOR McDUFFIE.

"The patriarchal institution of slavery,"— " the corner-stone of our re.
publican edifice." — Goi>.

King of Carolina— hail !

Last champion of Oppression's battle,
Lord of rice-tierce and cotton-bale,

Of sugar-box and human cattle !
Around thy temples, green and dark,

Thy own tobacco-wreath reposes ;
Thyself, a brother Patriarch

Of Isaac, Abraham, and Moses !

Why not ? Their household rule is thine ;

Like theirs, thy bondmen feel its rigor ;
And thine, perchance, as concubine,

Some swarthy counterpart of Hagar.
Why not ? Like patriarchs of old,

The priesthood is thy chosen station ;
Like them thou payest thy rites to gold, —

And Aaron's calf of Nullification.

All fair and softly ! Must we, then,

From Ruin's open jaws to save us,
Upon our own free workingmen

Confer a master's special favors ?
Whips for the back — chains for the heels —

Hooks for the nostrils of Democracy,
Before it spurns as well as feels

The riding of the Aristocracy !

Ho ! fishermen of Marblehead !
Ho ! Lynn cordwainers, leave your leather,

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. 123

And wear the yoke in kindness made,
And clank your needful chains together !

Let Lowell mills their thousands yield,
Down let the rough Vermonter hasten,

Down from the workshop and the field,
And thank us for each chain we fasten.

SLAVES in the rugged Yankee land !

I tell thee, Carolinian, never !
Our rocky hills and iron strand

Are free, and shall be free forever.
The surf shall wear that strand away,

Our granite hills in dust shall moulder,
Ere Slavery's hateful yoke shall lay,

Unbroken, on a Yankee's shoulder !

No, George McDuffie ! keep thy words

For the mail-plunderers of thy city,
Whose robber-right is in their swords ;

For recreant Priest and Lynch-Committee !
Go, point thee to thy cannon's mouth,

And swear its brazen lips are better,
To guard " the interests of the South,"

Than parchment scroll or Charter's letter.1

We fear not. Streams which brawl most loud

Along their course are oftenest shallow ;
And loudest to a doubting crowd

The coward publishes his valor.
Thy courage has at least been shown

In many a bloodless Southern quarrel,
Facing, with hartshorn and cologne,

The Georgian's harmless pistol-barrel.2

1 See speech of Governor McDuffie to an artillery company in
Charleston.

2 [The allusion is to a ridiculous affair of honor between Mc
Duffie and Colonel Cummings, of Georgia, for which the two men
fortified themselves with eau de cologne and spirits of hartshorn.]

124 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

No, Southron ! not in Yankee land

Will threats like thine a fear awaken ;
The men who on their charter stand

For truth and right, may not be shaken.
Still shall that truth assail thine ear ;

Each breeze, from Northern mountains blowing,
The tones of Liberty shall bear, —

God's " free incendiaries " going !

We give thee joy ! Thy name is heard

With reverence on the Neva's borders ;
And " turban'd Turk," and Poland's lord,

And Metternich, are thy applauders.
Go, if thou lov'st such fame, and share

The mad Ephesian's base example, —
The holy bonds of UNION tear,

And clap the torch to FREEDOM'S temple !

Do this — Heaven's frown, thy country's curse,

Guilt's fiery torture ever burning,
The quenchless thirst of Tantalus,

And Ixion's wheel forever turning —
A name for which " the pain'dest fiend

Below " his own would barter never, —
These shall be thine unto the end,

Thy damning heritage forever !

Another poem that was dropped from the collected
works some forty-five years ago is " Stanzas for the
Times." It appeared in '39, and was called out by
the apostasy of David R. Porter, Governor of Penn
sylvania, to the cause of freedom. He had once cast
his vote in the Pennsylvania legislature in favor of
suppressing slavery in the District of Columbia, but
afterwards swung over to the pro-slavery side.
Whittier's indignation bursts forth in the following
fiery verses :—

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. 125

" Go, eat thy words. Shall Henry Clay

Turn round, — a moral Harlequin?
And arch Van Buren wipe away

The stains of his Missouri sin ?
And shall that one unlucky vote
Stick burr-like in thy honest throat ?

" No : do thy part in putting down

The friends of Freedom, — summon out

The parson in his saintly gown,
To curse the outlawed roundabout,

In concert with the Belial brood —

The Balaam of ' the brotherhood ! '

"Quench every free discussion light,

Clap on the legislative snuffers,
And caulk, with * resolutions ' tight,

The ghastly rents the Union suffers!
Let Church and State brand Abolition
As Heresy and rank Sedition.

" Choke down at once each breathing thing

That whispers of the Rights of Man :
Gag the free girl who dares to sing

Of Freedom o'er her dairy pan ;
Dog the old farmer's steps about,
And hunt his cherished treason out.

" Go hunt sedition. Search for that

In every pedler's cart of rags ;
Pry into every Quaker's hat

And Dr. Fussell's saddle-bags,
Lest treason wrap, with all its ills,
Around his powders and his pills.

" Where Chester's oak and walnut shades

With slavery-laden breezes stir,

And on the hills and in the glades

Qf Bucks and honest Lancaster,

126 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

Are heads which think and hearts which feel,-
Flints to the Abolition steel !

" Ho ! send ye down a corporal's guard
With flow of flag and beat of drum, —

Storm Lindley Coates's poultry-yard,
Beleaguer Thomas Whitson's home !

Beat up the Quaker quarters, — show

Your valor to an unarmed foe !

" Do more. Fill up your loathsome jails

With faithful men and women, — set
The scaffold up in these green vales,

And let their verdant turf be wet
With blood of unresisting men, —
Ay, do all this, and more, — WHAT THEN ?

" Think ye one heart of man or child

Will falter from its lofty faith,
At the mob's tumult, fierce and wild, —

The prison cell,— the shameful death ?
No, nursed in storm and trial long,
The weakest of our band is strong.

" We cannot falter ! Did we so,

The stones beneath would murmur out,
And all the winds that round us blow
Would whisper of our shame about.
No, let the tempest rock the land,
Our faith shall live, our truth shall stand.

" True as the Vaudois, hemmed around
With Papal fire and Roman steel,—
Firm as the Christian heroine, bound
Upon Domitian's torturing wheel,
We 'bate no breath, we curb no thought :
Come what may come, WE FALTER NOT ! "

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. 127

Of the anti-slavery verses written for special
occasions or drawn out by startling events, Mr.
Whittier says : —

" Of their defects from an artistic point of view it
is not necessary to speak. They were the earnest
and often vehement expression of the writer's
thought and feeling at critical periods in the great
conflict between Freedom and Slavery. They were
written with no expectation that they would survive
the occasions which called them forth ; they were
protests, alarm-signals, trumpet-calls to action,
words wrung from the writer's heart, forged at white
heat, and of course lacking the finish and careful
word-selection which reflection and patient brooding
over them might have given. Such as they are, they
belong to the history of the anti-slavery movement,
and may serve as way-marks of its progress." 1

Some of the most glowing of the poems of free
dom were printed as broadsides or on cards. Such
were " Stanzas " (" Our fellow-countrymen in
chains ! "), and the " Kansas Emigrants " song. The
circumstances that gave birth to this famous march
ing song were as follows : Kansas and Nebraska had
been opened up for settlement, and a stream of
emigration had set in. The hope of the Free-Soilers
was that it would be settled by an anti-slavery
population. Eli Thayer of Massachusetts caught up
the idea, and, apparently from interested motives,
organized a company, raised money, and sent out
band after band of New England Free-Soil settlers to
hold Kansas for the North. With him were asso-

Preface to the edition of 1888.

128 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

ciated Edward Everett Hale and others. Thayer has
written an intemperate and boastful book, in which,
like another Colossus, he bestrides the Union, and
dares it to say he did n't save it, by saving Kansas.1
But we are not concerned as to the exact amount of
his service to the government. Suffice it to say that,
directly or indirectly, he sent out some four or five
thousand men to Kansas and settled them there.
The departure of the first band from Boston, by rail
road, was witnessed by an immense and enthusiastic
crowd, extending along the track for several blocks.
All through New England and the Middle and West
ern Middle States the progress of the party was a
continued ovation from cheering crowds. This first
company founded the city of Lawrence. Before they
started, Mr. Whittier sent them his " Kansas Emi
grants " song, —

" We cross the prairies as of old
The Pilgrims crossed the sea,
To make the West as they the East
The homestead of the free."

The song was actually sung, says Mr. Hale, — sung
when they started, sung as they journeyed, and sung
in their new home. To better adapt it to a company
of persons, a chorus was originally appended to each
stanza, thus : —

Chorus. — " The homestead of the free, my boys,

The homestead of the free.
To make the West as they the East
The homestead of the free."

1 See a caustic review of his book in " Nation," Nov. 7, 1889,
probably by Wendell Phillips Garrison.

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. 1 29

In virtue of this song, as well as his " Marais du
Cygne " and " Burial of Barber," Whittier to-day
holds a warm place in the affections of the people of
Kansas.

During the Civil War many of the poems of Whit-
tier were committed to memory and a few of them
sung by the Union soldiers.1 A signal testimony to
the power of his verse is attested by the case of the
Hutchinson family and Whittier's " Ein' Feste Burg."
This war lyric was published in the New York " Inde
pendent " in July, '61, in the very first days of the war.
It was at once adopted by the people as a campaign
song. In the early period of the contest the members
of the Hutchinson family (already long known and
admired by the public), divided into several bands,
were accustomed to visit recruiting stations and sing
for the purpose of inspiring patriotic valor and
encouraging volunteer enlistments. After the dis
couraging defeat of Bull Run, they went to Virginia,
very properly thinking, I suppose, that that was the
place where they were most needed. They entered the
national lines, but were expelled by General McClellan
for singing Whittier's " Ein' Feste Burg," the spirited
third stanza (given below) being especially dangerous,
thought McClellan, who still hoped, with Lincoln,
that a peace might be patched up with the South : —

" What gives the wheat-field blades of steel ?
What points the rebel cannon ?

1 Collections of patriotic songs of that time generally contain
only two or three poems by Whittier, such as " The Crisis," and
" Ein' Feste Burg." His verses were read more than they were sung.

9

130 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

What sets the roaring rabble's heel
On the old star-spangled pennon ?

What breaks the oath

Of the men o' the South ?

What whets the knife

For the Union's life ?
Hark to the answer : Slavery ! "

The Hutchinson family appealed to President Lin
coln. The poem was formally read in Cabinet meet
ing by Secretary Chase, and the President said, " It
is just the kind of a song I want the soldiers to hear."
By the unanimous vote of the Cabinet, then, and by
order of the President, the singers were readmitted
to the national camps.1

But, however marked may have been the influence
of Whittier's poems in the war days, let us beware
of claiming for him or for any one person an undue
share in the honor of having saved the country.
Nothing could shock his modesty or hurt his feelings
more than such a claim. It was, indeed, not the labor
of Benjamin Lundy, or of John Brown, or Mrs.
Stowe, or Eli Thayer, or William Lloyd Garrison, or
John G. Whittier, or Abraham Lincoln, that saved
the Union and abolished slavery, — not the work of
any one of these alone, nor of the armies of the North
alone, nor of the farmers and merchants who furnished
food, clothes, and weapons ; but it was the toil of all
these together that brought about the result.

Mr. Whittier's feeling about the war was regret
mingled with resignation to " God's will," and a

1 Appleton's Cyclopaedia of Biography, iii. 334.

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. 13!

patriotic acquiescence in what seemed an unavoidable
calamity. He recognized that God is sometimes in
the whirlwind as well as in the still small voice. He
believed that the mission of the Friends in the war
was to care for the slave and the freedman and for
the wounded. He, as well as Garrison, was sadly
tried by President Lincoln's cautious and conciliatory
measures as to slavery. Those shackles and chains,
those fellow-men in bondage, — these were the
matters that fretted and chafed him. Garrison and
Phillips were even ready for disunion, if our skirts
could not be cleared of the sin of slavery in any other
way. Not so Lincoln, — a man of much profounder
statesmanship than any one of the three Abolition
chiefs. The blood circulated slowly through his
gigantic frame, and he was slow in reaching his con
clusions. But he early saw the vital necessity of pre
serving the union of the States. The recently issued
lives of him by his law partner and by his private
secretaries show how deeply he abhorred slavery.
But he felt his way slowly and cautiously to emanci
pation. He sagaciously refused to move in national
matters until he felt that the inertia of the people
was overcome and that they were ready for change.
He was a profound calculator of forces and events.
There was that in him that matched the long suffer
ance and taciturnity of nature. Undoubtedly, his
feelings about slavery were not so fiery-indignant as
those of the Abolitionists. He viewed everything in
tellectually. Like Carlyle, he did not consider slav
ery absolutely the worst thing under the sun. In his
public letter to Horace Greeley he affirmed that,
while he wished all men to be free, he could only

132 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

work for immediate emancipation if he were con
vinced that it would help to save the Union. And,
although he cherished a secret ambition to go down
to posterity as the emancipator of the North Ameri
can slaves, he would by no means allow emancipa
tion to get between his feet and trip him up while he
was trying to save the country. He never abolished
slavery at all in the loyal border States, always shun
ning to exasperate the feelings of these States, and
promptly annulling the premature proclamations of
freedom by Generals Fremont and J. J. Piatt in Mis
souri and Maryland respectively. Lincoln, in his
large-hearted charity, pitied the masters of the slaves,
and the Abolitionists did not, — that was the great
difference between them. He even favored coloniza
tion, and kept bringing forward his scheme of gradual
emancipation, with the issue to the planters of in
demnity bonds, or immediate emancipation, with a
remuneration in cash from the national treasury for
each slave freed (the very measures once proposed by
Washington). And when the war was practically
over, just a few weeks before the insane act of his
assassination, this best friend of the South proposed
to his Cabinet a measure for creating a fund of $400,-
000,000 for the indemnity of Southern planters. All
along, his idea was to hold the raft well together by
patience and tact. Broken eggs can never be mended,
was his homely illustration. His Emancipation
Proclamation, when it came, was only an incident of
war, and slavery was only completely abolished years
afterwards by the Amendment to the Constitution.
It was natural for such men as Whittier, with whom
the slave question was of most concern, to be queru-

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. 133

lous and impatient with the President. In a moment
of disgust, Garrison once said that Lincoln had not
a drop of anti-slavery blood in his veins. And at
another time he wrote, " Lincoln is very weak in the
joints, and wholly unqualified to lead or inspire."
But this was in 1861. He learned to put greater trust
in him later. In September, 1861, Whittier wrote to
Lydia Maria Child, apropos of Fremont's proclama
tion of freedom : —

"I am afraid the Government will tie up the hands
of Fremont. I was just thinking of trying to thank
him for his noble word ' free,' when, lo ! the papers
this morning bring us Lincoln's letter to him, repu
diating the grand utterance. Well, if the confiscated
slaves are not free, then the Government has turned
slaveholder, that is all.

" I am sick of politicians. I know and appreciate
the great difficulties in the way of the administration,
but I see neither honesty nor worldly wisdom in
attempting to ignore the cause of the trouble.

" They tell us we must trust, and have patience ;
and I do not like to find fault with the administra
tion, as in so doing I seem to take sides with the
secession sympathizers of the North."

But when at last came the Amendment forever
abolishing slavery, and that Black Idol was " blown
hellward from the cannon's mouth, while Freedom
cheered behind the smoke," Whittier felt that all had
been for the best, —

" We prayed for love to loose the chain,
'T is shorn by battle's axe in twain."

And in his supreme exultation and exaltation of mind

134 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

he poured forth, as if by a sublime improvisation,
that Miriam's song of triumph, " Laus Deo ! " in
which there is not a weak line from beginning to end.
The poem took shape in Whittier's mind as he sat in
the Friends' meeting-house in Amesbury and heard
the clang of the bells rung in celebration of the
event. It is a poem that ought to endure as long as
the human race itself. The dungeon of Giant De
spair was at last forced open, and the grim iron key
presented to the man who best deserved it.1

Before passing on from the topic of the Civil War
of 1861-65, it is desirable to inquire a little more
closely into Whittier's theory and practice as to war,
—its right or wrong, and its disciplinary value, espe
cially as the imagery of war is so frequently employed
in his anti-slavery poetry and elsewhere.

General J. J. Piatt, in a lecture delivered in Cork,
Ireland, some years since, on the personality and
poetry of Whittier, read to the audience a note he
had received from the Quaker bard, as follows: —

" MY DEAR FRIEND, — I see thee are selecting Geo. D. Pren
tice's poems, and find in the New York ' Evening Post ' the
following extract from the advance sheets. [The newspaper
slip was appended.] The term war-poet — especially that of
Quaker war-poet — is a misnomer, and, in my case, I have never
written a poem in favor or in praise of war. If possible, strike
out the phrase, as I do not wish to be represented as false to
my life-long principles."

Mr. Whittier's statement is true in the main, but

1 The iron key of the Richmond slave-pen was sent to Whittier
when the city was occupied by Union troops.

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. 13$

will bear some discussion. It is a fact that he has
never intentionally written in praise of war, and his
prose and his poetry are full of passages reprobating
or deploring it. In a note to his poem on Kossuth
the soldier, he is careful to state that he believes no
political revolution was ever worth the price of human
blood; and, in a remark appended to his poem on the
storming of the city of Derne, he affirms his belief in
a higher and holier heroism than that of war. In
"Massachusetts to Virginia," he says, " We wage no
war, we lift no arm," against the South ; in " Barclay
of Uri," he lauds the non-resistant Quaker ; in
" Stanzas," his bugle-call is not to clash of arms, but
to the contest of Truth and Love with Error ; he
praises peaceful arbitrament in " The Peace Con
vention at Brussels "; in "Disarmament," the senti
ment is that "hate hath no harm for love, and peace
unweaponed conquers every wrong " ; and in " Brown
of Ossawatomie " essentially the same idea is devel
oped. In a letter to Lydia Maria Child, under date
of Oct. 21, 1859, he writes :—

" We feel deeply (who does not ?) for the noble-
hearted, self-sacrificing old man [John Brown]. But
as friends of peace as well as freedom, as believers in
the Sermon on the Mount, we dare not lend any
countenance to such attempts as that at Harper's
Ferry. ... I have just been looking at one of
the pikes sent here by a friend in Baltimore. It is not
a Christian weapon ; it looks too much like murder."

Garrison took Whittier to task for the lukewarm
tone of his "Brown of Ossawatomie." He thought
he did not so much honor the liberty-loving heroism
of Brown as he had the heroes of the Revolution.

136 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

There was undeniable truth in this criticism, and the
poet makes but a lame defense in his reply.1 But
we will let all that rest. The war, right or wrong,
has come and gone, and —

" Old John Brown's body is a-mouldering in the dust,
Old John Brown's rifle 's red with blood-spots turned to rust,
Old John Brown's pike has made its last, unflinching thrust,
His soul is marching on ! "

Writing on another occasion to Mrs. Child, Whit-
tier says : —

"I know nothing nobler or grander than the heroic
self-sacrifice of young Colonel Shaw. The only regi
ment I ever looked upon during the war was the 54th
[colored] on its departure for the South. I shall
never forget the scene. As he rode at the head of
his troops, the very flower of grace and chivalry, he
seemed to me beautiful and awful as an angel of God
come down to lead the host of freedom to victory. I
have longed to speak the emotions of that hour, but
I dared not, lest I should indirectly give a new im
pulse to war." (A contemporary account of the
embarkation of this regiment says that not a sneer or
an unkind word marred the occasion. Streets and
balconies were thronged with cheering crowds, flags
were hung out, and a lady in Essex Street presented
Colonel Shaw with a handsome bouquet.)

But there is another side to the shield. If Whittier
has written no poem in praise of war, he has assuredly
written poems full of the warlike spirit. There is a
touch of the fighting parson or Friar Tuck in him.

1 See " Liberator," Jan. 13 and 27, 1860.

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. 137

The elder Hawthorne wittily spoke of him as " a
fiery Quaker youth to whom the Muse has perversely
assigned a battle-trumpet." His favorite metaphors
are those of battles and the sword. To an essay on
William Leggett he prefixes as motto some strong lines
in which the poet Bryant apostrophizes Freedom, not
as a fair girl with curls flowing from under her
Phrygian cap, but as a strong, bearded man, " armed
to the teeth," one hand grasping the shield and the
other the sword. Mr. Whittier is himself perplexed
over the outbursting of the war-spirit in him : —

"Without intending any disparagement of my
peaceable ancestry for many generations, I have still
strong suspicions that somewhat of the old Norman
blood, something of the grim Berserker spirit, has
been bequeathed to me. How else can I account for
the intense childish eagerness with which I listened
to the stories of old campaigners who sometimes
fought their battles over again in my hearing ? Why
did I, in my young fancy, go up with Jonathan, the
son of Saul, to smite the garrisoned Philistines of
Michmash, or with the fierce son of Nun against the
cities of Canaan ? Why was Mr. Greatheart, in Pil
grim's Progress, my favorite character ? What gave
such fascination to the grand Homeric encounter
between Christian and Apollyon in the valley ? Why
did I follow Ossian over Morven's battlefields, exult
ing in the vulture-screams of the blind scald over his
fallen enemies? Still later, why did the newspapers
furnish me with subjects for hero-worship in the half-
demented Sir Gregor McGregor, and Ypsilanti at the
head of his knavish Greeks ? I can only account for
it on the supposition that the mischief was inherited,

138 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

— an heirloom from the old sea-kings of the ninth
century.

" Education and reflection have indeed wrought a
change in my feelings. The trumpet of the Cid, or
Ziska's drum even, could not now waken that old
martial spirit. . . . It is only when a great thought
incarnates itself in action, desperately striving to find
utterance even in the sabre-clash and gun-fire, or
when Truth and Freedom, in their mistaken zeal and
mistrustful of their own powers, put on battle-har
ness, that I can feel any sympathy with merely phys
ical daring."

Some curious facts connected with the American
Civil War of 1861-65 show that the old war-instinct
troubles other Quakers besides Whittier. It was Mr.
John S. Gibbons, a Hicksite Quaker, it will be remem
bered, who wrote the popular war lyric, —

" We are coming, Father Abraham,
Three hundred thousand more."

During the early days of the war the good Friends
of Philadelphia were greatly scandalized at finding
their sons rushing to arms with the rest; so that, we
are given to understand, there was scarcely a Quaker
household from which one or more sons had not gone
forth to the cohflict.1 In northern New Jersey the
famous Quaker Regiment, of a full thousand men,
was formed in 1862. After two hundred of these
men, all wearing straight coats and broad-brimmed
hats, had offered themselves and been accepted, their
conduct was sharply criticised at the next quarterly

1 Life of Garrison, iv. 37.

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. 139

meeting, whereupon one of them, who was present,
arose and told a little story. He said that his grand
father once had dealings with an obstreperous "man
of the world," who provoked him until his patience
was worn out. All at once he threw off his coat and
laid it on the ground, saying, " Lie there, Quaker, till
I give this rascal his dues ! " and then proceeded to
give him a good drubbing. During the later days of
the war the Quakers were not exempt from the draft,
and some of them strove hard to avoid it; but others
were willing to send substitutes. It is recorded that
a Quaker merchant of New York said to one of his
clerks, " If thee will enlist, not only shall thee have
thy situation, but thy salary shall go on while thee is
absent. But, if thee will not serve thy country, thee
cannot stay in this store."

It is, one gladly admits, moral heroism alone that
Whittier has sometimes seemed to praise, in spite of
himself, when he finds it in men with the weapons of
death in their hands. Read in illustration a half-
dozen or more poems produced in the flower of
his manhood and in the heat of the anti-slavery
struggle, — 1846 to 1858, — " What the Voice Said,"
"Paean," " Yorktown," "Stanzas for the Times,"
"The Branded Hand," " Lucknow," and "Derne";
also some rollicking verses " written to beguile a
rainy day on the farm," about sixty-three years ago.
They were published anonymously in some paper,
but have not since been admitted into any collection
of his works.1 The poem is called —

1 The time of the poem is in the early days when Vermont was
struggling for independent existence, under the lead of Ethan Allen

14° JOHN G. WHITTIER.

THE SONG OF THE VERMONTERS.

Ho ! all to the borders ! Vermonters, come down,
With your breeches of deerskin and jackets of brown ;
With your red woolen caps, and your moccasins, come
To the gathering summons of trumpet and drum !

Come down with your rifles ! let gray wolf and fox
Howl on in the shade of their primitive rocks ;
Let the bear feed securely from pig-pen and stall ;
Here 's a two-legged game for your powder and ball!

On our south come the Dutchmen, enveloped in grease,
And arming for battle, while canting of peace ;
On our east, crafty Meshech has gathered his band,
To hang up our leaders and eat out our land.

Ho ! all to the rescue ! For Satan shall work
No gain for his legions of Hampshire and York!
They claim our possessions, — the pitiful knaves ! —
The tribute we pay shall be prisons and graves !

and other Green Mountain Boys. The poem is given in Henry W.
De Puy's " Ethan Allen," Buffalo, 1853, and in " Littell's Living
Age," March 22, 1856. Under date of March 19, 1887, Whittier
wrote to the Boston ' ' Transcript " a letter, in which he said : " ' The
Song of the Vermonters, by Ethan Allen,' was a piece of boyish
mystification, written sixty years ago and printed anonymously.
The only person who knew its authorship was my old friend
Joseph T. 'Buckingham, and I supposed the secret died with him.
We were both amused to find it regarded by antiquarian authorities
as a genuine relic of the old time. How the secret was dis
covered a few years ago I have never known. I have never in
tentionally written anything in favor of war, but a great deal
against it."

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. 14!

Let Clinton and Ten Broek, with bribes in their hands,
Still seek to divide us and parcel our lands:
We Ve coats for our traitors, whoever they are ;
The warp is of feathers, the filling of tar !

Does the " Old Bay State " threaten ? Does Congress com
plain ?

Swarms Hampshire in arms on our borders again ?
Bark the war-dogs of Britain aloud on the lake ?
Let 'em come ! what they can, they are welcome to take.

What seek they among us ? The pride of our wealth
Is comfort, contentment, and labor and health ;
And lands which as Freemen we only have trod,
Independent of all save the mercies of God.

Yet we owe no allegiance ; we bow to no throne ;
Our ruler is law, and the law is our own ;
Our leaders themselves are our own fellow-men,
Who can handle the sword or the scythe or the pen.

Our wives are all true, and our daughters are fair,
With their blue eyes of smiles and their light flowing hair ;
All brisk at their wheels till the dark even-fall,
Then blithe at the sleigh-ride, the husking, and ball !

We Ve sheep on the hillsides ; we Ve cows on the plain ;
And gay-tasselled corn-fields, and rank-growing grain ;
There are deer on the mountains ; and wood-pigeons fly
From the crack of our muskets, like clouds in the sky.

And there 's fish in our streamlets and rivers, which take
Their course from the hills to our broad-bosomed lake ;
Through rock-arched Winooski the salmon leaps free,
And the portly shad follows, all fresh from fhe sea.

I42 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

Like a sunbeam the pickerel glides through his pool,
And the spotted trout sleeps where the water is cool,
Or darts from his shelter of rock and of root
At the beaver's quick plunge or the angler's pursuit.

And ours are the mountains which awfully rise

Till they rest their green heads on the blue of the skies;

And ours are the forests, unwasied, unshorn,

Save where the wild path of the tempest is torn.

And though savage and wild be this climate of ours,
And brief be our season of fruits and of flowers,
Far dearer the blast round our mountains which raves
Than the sweet summer zephyr which breathes over slaves.

Hurrah for VERMONT ! for the land which we till
Must have sons to defend her from valley and hill ;
Leave the harvest to rot on the field where it grows,
And the reaping of wheat for the reaping of foes.

Far from Michiscom's valley to where
Poosoomsuck steals down from his wood-circled lair,
From Shocticook river to Lutterlock town, —
Ho ! all to the rescue ! Vermonters, come down !

Come York or come Hampshire, — come traitors and knaves ;
If ye rule o'er our land, ye shall rule o'er our graves ;
Our vow is recorded, — our banner unfurled ;
In the name of Vermont, we defy all the world!

There is an interesting parallelism between Ruskin
and Whittier in their latent sympathy with war and
yet their open reprobation of it. The truth is, we
are in a transition state from the era of battle to the
era of peace. And while to the old soldier-nations
the fatal ordeal of the sword — man to man and shield
to shield — seemed the sole condition of high mental

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. 143

attainments, to us a more excellent way presents it
self ; namely, battle with the hostile forces of nature,
and moral struggle and emulation. But at present
we must charitably allow our poets of peace the
mere imagery of the old ages of strife ; for poetic
material is not easy to obtain unless the whole range
of life is open to the poet's use.

The moral quality of the Quaker poet which leads
him to abhor war reveals itself in a milder form in
his dislike of the strife and noise of the professional
politician's life. Although taking a deep interest in
elections and in all questions concerning the nation's
welfare, he says that, as a rule, he has declined over
tures for acceptance of public station; and adds, "I
have not been willing to add my own example to the
greed of office." In 1842 he was nominated as a
Liberty party candidate for Congress from Massa
chusetts, as we shall see. The only offices he has
actually held, however, have been unsought by him.
lie was twice elected to the Massachusetts legisla
ture, and served twice as member of the government
Electoral College. He has also been on the Board of
Overseers of Harvard and Brown Universities. In
1845 ne was a Vice-President of the Massachusetts
Society for the Abolition of Capital Punishment.
He made a few anti-slavery speeches,1 but was more
successful as a lobbyist (" a superb hand at it," said

1 A reviewer of Whittier in 1849 (" Littell's Living Age," January
13) says, " We have small sympathy with him as a lecturer," and
gives as his reasons that he does n't like the " fierce anathemas and
savage denunciations " of the Puritans ! Rather amusing that ! —
" the savage Whittier" is much like " the ferocious turtle dove."
The reviewer continues, "As is generally the case with ultra-
liberals, Mr. Whittier exhibits a most vindictive intolerance."

144 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

Wendell Phillips) and as an organizer of voters. His
keen insight into men's characters, taken in connec
tion with his winning address, was what made his
election services so highly prized by party managers.
He must have startled and almost terrified the quiet-
loving_J^gngfellow by proposing to him that he
should accept a nomination to Congress on the Lib
erty party ticket in 1844. Longfellow had just pub
lished his Poems on Slavery, which had pleased
Whittier, and he wrote to thank him for them, say
ing they had been of important service to the party.
" Our friends," said he, " think they could throw for
thee one thousand more votes than for any other
man." Longfellow answered, " At all times I shall
rejoice in the progress of true liberty, and in freedom
from slavery of all kinds; but I cannot for a moment
think of entering the political arena. Partisan war
fare becomes too violent, too vindictive, for my taste;
and I should be found but a weak and unworthy
champion in public debate."1

In 1^34 Whittier was Corresponding Secretary of
the Haverhill Anti-slavery Society; and his Reports
as Corresponding Secretary of the Essex County
Anti-slavery Society in 1837 are extant.3 In April,
'37, he spoke at a meeting of the Massachusetts Society
in Lynn, and at the anniversary meeting of the Amer
ican Anti-slavery Society, in that year, he introduced
a resolution advocating no political support to any
party candidate who was unwilling to work for the
abolition of slavery. In February of this busy year,

1 Life of Longfellow, by Samuel Longfellow, ii. 20.
9 In " Liberator," Jan. 14, '37, and May 5, '37.

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. 145

'37, he is at Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, attending a
~c~oTrvention of the Pennsylvania Society, and writes
glowing letters to the papers, saying that Thomas
Whitson was there, " firm as rock and true as steel ";
Charles GJBurleigh, with his eloquence and his plain
homespun appearance, was " moving all before him";
and "sturdy farmer Ritner," the Governor, had flung
out on the mountain breezes of Pennsylvania the
banner of free discussion. We are told that one of
the delegates (honor be to his name !) had the good
sense to hold that the negroes had a right to fight
for their freedom, and he indignantly withdrew from
the convention when the doctrinaires refused to
agree with him, saying it was nothing but a Quaker
meeting. Ia^8j^, at the anniversary of the Ameri
can Society, we finjjLW-hittier introducing a resolution
(successfully passed) favoring the ballot as a weapon
in the hands of Abolitionists. At a business meeting
of the society in January, 1840, he was present and
took part in the proceedings; and in July of the same
year he serves on a business committee at the Albany
Convention.

He was an ardent supporter ofjCaLeb pushing in
his thirteen attempts to secure election to Congress.
(Gushing was finally successful.) In 1828, when a
mere boy, Whittier, as editor of the " American Man
ufacturer," supported Henry Clay, in a sort of per
functory way; but, when afterwards his eyes were
opened more fully to the wrongs of slavery, he
declined to give him his support, because he was a
slaveholder, — and told him so frankly in a cordial
interview he had with him once in Washington.1

1 Life of Garrison, i. 190.
IO

146 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

Mr. Whittier helped to organize the Liberty party,
which was the precursor of the Free-Soil party (in
the essential matter); and that in turn was merged
in the present Republican party. The real founder
of the Liberty party was Myron Holley of New York
State. The party came into existence in entire inde
pendence of the New Organization faction of the
Abolitionists, but that faction at once fraternized
with it on political grounds. In the ethical field
the founding of the American and Foreign Anti-
slavery Society, and its organ, the " American and
Foreign Anti-slavery Reporter," by the New Organi-
zationists, was one of the minor results of division in
the Abolition ranks, primarily on the question of
woman's rights, and secondarily on the subjects of
political action, non-resistance, and moral perfection
ism. Garrison and his party thought the Constitution
of the United States to be a covenant with death and
an agreement with hell, and could not conscientiously
vote under it or recognize its authority. But such
Abolitionists as Whittier, Samuel E. Sewall, James
G. Birney, Gerrit Smith, the Tappans, Joshua Leavitt,
Elizur Wright, Henry B. Stanton, Amos A. Phelps,
and Rev. John Pierpont were willing to work under
the Constitution, and vote under it; and they there
fore joined themselves to the Liberty party, and
founded their own journals, — among them the
"Reporter," above mentioned. This short-lived
monthly, founded by Lewis Tappan, published in
New York, and edited by Whittier, had no great
strength or following. Whittier was also placed on
the executive committee of the rew society, but
excused himself on account of his health. The

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. 147

Garrisonians, and notably the keen-witted Edmund
Ouincy, fought the come-outers with tooth and nail ;
and the list of names above given shows that well was
their need, if they would keep alive after so alarm
ing a defection. As for the American and Foreign
Society, if it had done nothing else, we should owe
it a debt of gratitude for the founding and nursing
into self-support of the " National Era," which fur
nished a medium for the publication of a Large part of
Whittier's best poems (ninety-five of them) and —
most important of all — Mrs. Stowe's "Uncle Tom's
Cabin."

The split in the Abolition ranks, which is of very
little interest to most of us now, occupies a conspic
uous place in the history of Abolitionism, and created
a good deal of hard feeling and not a little bitter
speaking between members of the different factions.
Whittier was often spoken of as a good editor for
projected organs of the new party, and did actually
do editorial work both on the "Emancipator" of
Joshua Leavittand the " American and Foreign Anti-
slavery Reporter," as has been stated. Garrison was
extremely jealous of the new journals, and pretty
severe in his language about them. He said he was
certain that " the grand design was to supplant the
1 Liberator,' and establish a paper upon its ruins
that would be less offensive to the clergy, and less
free in its spirit, and that would not dare to utter a
word upon any other question of reform — unless it
were popular ! " This was a most unfair statement,
but Garrison firmly believed it. The relation of
friendship between him and Whittier was strained,
but never entirely broken by these differences of

148 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

opinion. It was hard to quarrel with so gentle and
amiable a man as the Quaker poet.

Still, between the years 1839 an<^ i86i,the columns
of the " Liberator " contain from time to time little
flings at Whittierasone of the leaders of the political
Abolition party.

At the beginning of the difficulty, Whittier, as edi
tor of the " Freeman," wrote in February, 1839, a piece
in which, as always, he poured oil upon the troubled
waters. He said, in substance: Let us tolerate and
forgive one another everything but wilful and delib
erate treachery to the cause. Our merely personal
differences must be buried "deeper than plummet
ever sounded." "Are we not all brethren, Abolition
ists all ? . . . Like the fabled stone of Scio, which
Pliny speaks of, that floated on the waves when whole,
but sunk like lead beneath them when broken asun
der, our strength and safety lie in our union and
brotherhood of spirit." 1

In his comment on this Mr. Garrison characteristi
cally said: " All this is certainly in a very amicable
spirit. Its object is pacification, but somewhat in
the Henry Clay style, when Missouri was admitted
into the Union as a slave State, for the sake of peace."

Whittier wrote in reply in the next number of the
" Liberator " but one: —

AMESBURY, 24th, 2d mo., 1839.

MY DEAR GARRISON, — As sickness, in thy opinion, does not
always " subdue the temper and chasten the spirit," was it not
somewhat hazardous, on thy part, to make an experiment upon
my complacency and good nature while suffering from pro-

1 Liberator, Feb. 22, 1839.

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. 149

tracted indisposition ? There are times when " the grasshop
per is a burden "; and therefore it ought not to surprise thee,
that, without fully indorsing the erudite Dogberry's theory in
relation to comparisons, I should take exceptions to one in thy
last paper, likening my efforts for the " pacification " of con
flicting " Boston notions " to those of Henry Clay on the Mis
souri question ; and that the idea of being held up alongside of
the " Great Pacificator," right on the heel of his late " surren
der " to John C. Calhoun, is peculiarly unsavory. It may have
been nothing more than a figure of speech, or a flourish of rhet
oric ; but if it was intended to impeach me with having, for the
sake of peace, or for any other reason, yielded up one of those
great and glorious truths for which for the last six years we
have contended side by side, it was unworthy of William Lloyd
Garrison — far more injurious to himself than to his friend ; and
in the free spirit of an Abolitionist, I tread it as the dust under
my feet and leave it.

It may be, however, that, in this matter, my heart will be
excused at the expense of my judgment. My views of the
existing difficulty may be attributed to a defect of moral
vision. Well, be it so. I confess that the habit of my mind is
somewhat confiding and unsuspicious. No visions of future
treachery haunt and disturb me in my communion with my
anti-slavery brethren : no shadows and omens of thick-coming
disasters throng before me : no ghosts of treason, wearing the
similitude of loved and familiar friends, scowl on me from the
Shadow World of the Future. My sphere of vision is mainly
limited to the Actual and the Present. For me, " sufficient
unto the day is the evil thereof." Yet, when real difficulties
come, — when the ploughshares of a fiery ordeal lie hot and
glowing in the very path of duty, — I trust I shall not evince
more hesitancy and faltering than those of my brethren who,
more clear-sighted than myself, have seen the danger afar
off. ...

But enough — I have written far more than I intended when
I commenced this note. Make such comments upon it as thou
mayst deem proper, or none at all. One thing I would state in

I5O JOHN G. WHITTIER.

advance. However I may differ from him, I shall not quarrel
with the friend of twelve years' standing, whom I have known
and loved in prosperity and adversity — who first stimulated me
to active exertion in the cause of the slave. . . .

Truly thy friend,

JOHN G. WHITTIER.

To this genial avowal the fiery Garrison, who was
in a state of great irritation, appended a half-column
of ungracious accusations against the seceded party,
headed by the following remark to Whittier, in which
he rubs the sore when he should apply the plaster:
" We sympathize with our dear friend in his illness.
In our allusion to Henry Clay's manner of ' pacifica
tion,' we only meant that J. G. W. is for obtaining
peace at the expense of consistency, if not of princi-
pie."

Matters were evidently grown to be a little serious
between the two friends, and it is easy to see on which
side intolerance existed. One could imagine Whittier
as saying with Landor, " I do not like your great men
who beckon me to them, call me their begotten, their
dear child, and their entrails; and if I happen to say
on any occasion, * I beg leave, sir, to dissent a little
from you,' stamp and cry, 'The devil you do ! ' and
whistle for the executioner." Whittier had sailed
quite into the north of Garrison's good opinion, and
that reformer took no pains to conceal the fact or to
breathe the faults of his friend quaintly, but keeps
twitting him and pricking him. Recalls members of
the new party " the sightless and priestless dupes of
a bigoted clergy."1 When Whittier was annoyed at

1 Liberator, xiii. 51.

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. 15!

the circulation in the presidential campaign of 1842
(as if they were then first written) of some highly
encomiastic lines on Henry Clay penned by him in
1829 or 1830, Garrison slyly asks why Whittier or
any of his friends should marvel at this, since " all 's
fair in politics." In 1859, when the hanging of John
Brown occurs, Garrison keenly remarks that Whittier
can't complain of Brown, since he himself votes under
a constitution which upholds war. In 1841 there
appears on the first page of the " Liberator" a para
graph from the "Pennsylvania Freeman" which
Whittier had recently edited. The writer of the par
agraph expresses regret that " the soul of John G.
Whittier should choose to be cramped within such
narrow limits" as the editorship of the "American
and Foreign Anti-slavery Reporter" imposes. Then
comes a veiled sneer about the feeble health of Whit
tier being just suited to a task of such slight magni
tude. Again, the "Liberator" itself says editorially:
" Where is John G. Whittier? At home, we believe,
but incapable of doing anything important for the
cause — except to write political electioneering ad
dresses for the ' Liberty party ' ! New Organization
has affected his spirit to a withering extent, and poli
tics will complete his ruin, if he * tarry long in all the
field.' " ' In the " Liberator " for Nov. n, 1842, Gar
rison holds Whittier up to ridicule. " The most ludi
crous feelings are excited within us," he says, "on
looking over the Liberty party's list of Congressional
nominations." After speaking of three of the nomi
nees as " Methodist priests," wholly untrustworthy

1 Liberator, Aug. 12, 1842.

I$2 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

for the work of Abolitionism, he continues: " In Dis
trict No. 3, John G. Whittier is the Liberty party
candidate. Like the other two, if elected, he would
be speechless on the floor of Congress, — not, like
them, for the want of intellectual ability, but because
public speaking is not his gift. Whittier, it is well
known, is a member of the Society of Friends. He
is professedly opposed to war, defensive as well as
offensive, and to capital punishment. As a member
of Congress, he would be compelled to promise, under
the pains and penalties of perjury, to support the
U. S. Constitution AS IT is. By that Constitution,
the life of man may be taken, and war declared and
prosecuted — the army and navy must be maintained
—piracy is made lawful, in the granting of letters of
marque and reprisal — and the judiciary, which sen
tences human beings to be hanged by the neck till
they are dead, is regarded as the sheet-anchor of
4 law and order,' — to say nothing about the clauses
allowing slaveholders to represent their slaves, and to
recover fugitives in any part of the Union. How can
Whittier promise to support such a bloody instru
ment, either as a philanthropist or a Christian ? "

Now, Whittier was of course sensitive to censure, and
quick as lightning to perceive coldness or hostility
in a friend. He showed the old party the back
seams of his stockings in an unmistakable way, when
he found out their animus. From about 1840 to
1854 no direct communications whatever from Whit
tier appear in the " Liberator," though his poems
continue to be regularly quoted from other journals.
Still, the trouble between Garrison and his friend
was not unsolderable, but was only of the nature of

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. 153

a marked coolness (for a number of years). A little
incident is in point here. In the latter part of 1841
Whittier happened one day to be in Garrison's office
in Boston, after the headquarters of the old American
Anti-slavery Society had been removed to that city.
" Why can't we all go on together?" said Whittier.
"Why not indeed?" said Garrison: " we stand just
where we did. I see no reason why you cannot
cooperate with the American Society." " Oh," replied
Whittier, " hut the American Society is not what it
once was: it has the hat and the coat and the waistcoat
of the old Society, but the life has passed out of it."
"Are you not ashamed," laughingly replied Mr. Gar
rison, " to come here wondering why we cannot go
on together ! No wonder you can't cooperate with a
suit of old clothes." 1

At heart, however, Whittier often suffered poign
antly over the disagreements of the two parties. In
1840 he wrote to Joshua Leavitt:

" MY DEAR BROTHER LEAVITT, — I have just returned to
the quiet of my home, and have barely had leisure to glance
over the anti-slavery newspapers which have accumulated dur
ing my absence.

" Last year I attended the Annual Meeting of the American
Anti-slavery Society in New York. It was to me a painful
season. The distrust and jealousy which were manifested, and
the impeachment of motives which was indulged in, were to
me a source of regret, mortification, and sorrow unfeigned.
And when, previous to the late Anniversary, I saw the parties
mustering for strife, — signals and watchwords passing and
repassing over the land, — and every indication of a desperate
struggle for the mastery of numbers, I could not find in my

Life of Garrison, iii.

154 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

own mind any freedom to attend the meeting. Even had I
resolved otherwise, the state of my health must have prevented
me from any active participation in the business proceedings,
and I felt no disposition to be a spectator of dissension and
strife among friends.

" Of the result of that meeting I need not speak. The anti-
slavery host has been severed in twain. The thing which I
have greatly feared has come upon us. The original cause of
the difficulty — a disposition to engraft foreign questions upon
the simple stock of immediate emancipation — I early discovered,
and labored to the extent of my ability to counteract. That in
so doing I have been compelled to dissent from the views of
some of my dearest personal friends has been no ordinary trial
to me."

Whittier then begs leave, on account of his health,
to be excused from serving on the Executive Com
mittee of the American and Foreign Anti-slavery
Society, and closes with a pious exhortation and ex
pression of faith in the cause. 1

A few months later than the time of the above
letter, Whittier had a brilliant word-duel with N. P.
Rogers, whose second was Garrison. As the give
and take game went on, it was merged into a dis
cussion of the right or wrong of the New Organiza
tion for political action, and the motives of the differ
ent parties, and will therefore give us an oppor
tunity to investigate the case a little ourselves, and
see if we can, at this distance of time, reach the truth
about it.

The immediate occasion of the clash was a letter of
Whittier's written to the "Pennsylvania Freeman,"

Emancipator, July 2, 1840.

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. 155

under date of Sept. 24, 1840, l criticising N. P.
Rogers for certain published statements about the
London Convention of Abolitionists, to which he was
a delegate. But it is necessary to go back a little
further, in order to see the matter in all its bearings.
About half a year previously, Whittier had written
a poem on the proposed Convention, couched in
beautiful terms and breathing a spirit of charity and
peace, —

" Yes, let them gather ! Summon forth
The pledged philanthropy of earth.

*****
Let them come and greet each other,
And know in each a friend and brother."

Alluding to this poem, Garrison, with characteristic
hard obstinacy and intolerance, said, " Amen, yes, let
them all come, — ... all but those who refuse
to associate for the slave's redemption with others
who do not agree with them as to the divinity of
human politics, and the Scriptural obligation to pre
vent woman from opening her mouth in an anti-
slavery gathering for ' the suffering and the dumb,' —
and they cannot come, conscientiously — they are par
excellence New Organizationists ! "

This was slamming the door in Whittier's face with
a vengeance ! Yet the difficulty suggested so deli
cately by Garrison did not seem to be insuperable
to the New Organizationists, for they sent two of
their number — James G. Birney (at that time a can-

1 Quoted in " Liberator " Nov. 27, 1840. None of the letters of
Whittier written at this time have been reprinted.

156 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

didate for the Presidency) and Henry B. Stanton — to
the Convention, and no doubt invited Whittier, but
he was very ill at home and could not go, and was
besides, as we have seen, in a state of disgust over
the everlasting wrangle and jaw of the Garrisonians
and their opponents.

Well, off to London, in high feather, had gone
Garrison and Rogers, Lucretia Mott and Wendell
Phillips, Birney and Stanton. They were having a
grand time there, and sending home letters about
it all.

When the British delegates refused to admit
women to the Convention, Garrison declined to take
his seat with them, and remained a spectator of the
proceedings. Now, as the ostensible ground for
the split in the Abolition host had been difference of
opinion on the desirability of women taking part in
conventions and meetings, of course Whittier, in his
letter to the " Freeman," above mentioned, takes the
position that the action of the British in rejecting the
women delegates affords no ground for sweeping
condemnation of the great meeting. He himself, as a
Quaker, was used to women speaking in meetings,
and has always been what is called a woman's rights
man. But, seeing the state of public opinion on the
subject, he thought it wise to defer the question, and
not swamp the Abolition boat by loading her too
heavily with other reforms. And he was right. He
repels with warmth, also, the assertion of William
Howitt that the Orthodox Friends voted " No " be
cause they were unwilling to associate with Lucretia
Mott, a heterodox Quaker. He takes issue with Mr.
Rogers as to the latter's assertion that the great mass

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. T57

of British Abolitionism was more despotic, as well as
more servile, than our republican pro-slavery folk.
" They have no freedom in England, and how can
they have anti-slavery?" said Rogers.

To this Whittier replies: —

"Logical and convincing might this be, did not
800,000 FACTS to the contrary, in the redeemed and
disenchained islands of the West Indies, start up
before us — did not the voices of emancipated men
and women, and children, in those islands, rising
above the roar of many waters, bemurmuring the
'still vexed Bermoothes,' invoke blessings upon the
heads of the men whom our brother has termed * des
potic ' and ' servile ' — less worthy than ' our pro-
slavery mob.' . . . The truth is, our friend Rogers
has little sympathy with anything staid, sober-paced,
prosaic, and formula-fettered; and we suppose he
found most of our English brethren mere non-con
ductors of his fervid, imaginative, electric-sparkling
Abolitionism. He went dreaming of setting a whole
world free from all kinds of oppression — mental,
physical, social, religious, and political; millennial
fire-shadowings fell about him in his pathway across
the waters; he went to receive and in turn communi
cate an enthusiasm which was to go round the
world, the pharmakon nepenthes for all its evils — and
they gave him dull reports, plans for abolishing the
slave-trade — and for cotton-growing in the East —
passionless, and figurative only in tables of statis
tics. . . .

" They came to welcome American Abolitionists to
their hearts and homes, and join them in promoting
the extinction of chattel slavery. They did not, how-

158 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

ever, come prepared to adopt our new doctrines of
human equality; and probably knew little of them
— our declarations, immortal in lithograph and satin;
our * platform ' on which men and women lose their
distinctive character, and become ' souls without sex '
— our long ' reports,' and indignant * protests ' — old
and new organization tactics — hair-splitting meta
physics of the Joseph Tracy school — poetical and
rhetorical flourishes — transcendentalism engrafted
upon puritanism; Cousin's 'Progress and Reform'
and Cromwell's * sword of the Lord and of Gideon '
— our discussions of ethics, theology, politics, * fore
knowledge, will and fate,' ' long drawn out,' although
not always with the 'linked sweetness ' Milton speaks
of ! The faintest possible rumor of all this had alone
reached our British fellow-laborers. They came to
meet American Abolitionists, as men altogether like
themselves, — intent upon the one common object.
That object they supposed might be attained without
subscribing to our Yankee doctrines of equality, or
sexless democracy. For was not Wilberforce himself
a Tory ? Did he not with one breath denounce the
slave-trade, and with the next defend that church
establishment which Milton, eloquently indignant in
the name of his abused and plundered countrymen,
declared had been ' for twelve hundred years a sad
and doleful succession of blind guides to the souls of
Englishmen: a wasteful band of robbers to their
purses ' ? Was it to carry into practice any abstract
doctrine of equality that the measure of West India
emancipation received the votes of the Lords Spiritual
and Temporal in Parliament ? Did William IV., in
giving his royal assent to that Bill, become a radical

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. 159

democrat — a second Monsieur Egalite ? And now
when members of the Royal Family, Lords and
Knights and Right Honorables, — England's chivalry
and her highest born, — grace the platforms of anti-
slavery meetings, will Ireland find redress for her
wrongs — will China, swallowing opium-poison, under
the guns of the British navy, obtain a respite — will
the starving murmur of the miserable Chartists be
answered less sternly with pistol-shot and sabre-cut ?
Not at all. It were as unreasonable to suppose it as
that we ourselves, by reason of our Abolitionism,
should be found perfect patterns of consistency,
meekness, self-denial, and kind-dealing — with no seg
ment wanting to complete the circle of our perfect
ibility. Our British friends, I suspect, after all, upon
a rigid scrutiny, will be found quite as consistent as
ourselves."

The communication closes with the expression of
a hope that his old friend Rogers will take what is
said in a spirit of kindness. Garrison spoke of this
letter as "very reprehensible" and "somewhat con
temptuous." Charles C. Burleigh also replied to it
in a long and admirably cool review, in which he re
gretted the over-statements of his Orthodox Quaker
friend, Whittier, and offered indubitable proof (taken
from private letters) that William Howitt was right
in saying that Lucretia Mott had been given the cold
shoulder by many of the Orthodox Quakers in Eng
land.1 Mr. Rogers's reply also soon appeared in the
" Anti-slavery Standard ": —

1 This is now confirmed by the recently published Autobiog
raphy of Mary Howitt, who says, " The English Quakers will not
receive Lucretia Mott because she is a Hicksite."

l6o JOHN G. WHITTIER.

" Who could have thought, while contemplating the lofty
effusions of our anti-slavery bard, that ' new organization '
would ever be able to ' tame ' or to ' catch ' his ethereal spirit,
or fetter his free limbs in its narrow harness ? Alas ! has it
not caught him, and reduced him, and tamed him, as to all
further cooperation in the enterprise of which he has ever been
the ornament and pride ? It may be to humble us in the dust,
that star after star in our enterprise is thus starting from its
sphere in the anti-slavery firmament, and disappearing like an
exploded meteor. Whittier at length goes out, we fear, among
the other wandering luminaries. We speak it with grief, for
we have gloried in his light and beauty. But, henceforth, we
look for him no longer blazing in the anti-slavery van, bearing
his shield gallantly abreast of the ' Liberator ' — celebrating the
triumphs of freedom in deathless verse, and bursting forth on
tyranny in volcanic explosion, as it developed itself from time
to time, under the Ithuriel-touches of our movement. We look
no longer for his banner in the anti-slavery field. He is trans
ferred to another service."

And in a succeeding letter Mr. Rogers adds: —

" He tolerated New Organization [political Abolitionism]
and threw the whole weight of his powerful influence against
the editor of the ' Liberator,' and the movement he had from the
beginning singly (as an Abolitionist) pursued, and cast it into
the scale with this new type of clerical appealism, called New
Organization ; the most wolfish, as by experience we have else
where found, of any sheep-clad hostility that has waylaid the
anti-slavery movement." . . .

" We ask dear friend Whittier to down with his classic pride
and up among us again — again to unfurl his beauteous white
streamer to the wind — once more to be the ornament, the ad
miration, of our thinned but deathless ranks. May God send
him health, and with it his ancient vision and spirit, is our sin
cere, our earnest prayer."

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. l6l

In Mr. Whittier's rejoinder to this he says that he
has received a copy of Mr. Rogers's paper, in which
he is officially informed that he is no longer an Abo
litionist.

" I am likened to a star shooting madly from its
sphere, — launching, like Carazan of the Eastern
story, into the abyss of infinitude —

' A comet shorn,
Out into utter darkness borne.'

And a mock lamentation is set up over me, which
would be pathetic, did it not partake so largely, under
all the circumstances of the case, of the ludicrous.

"Now, if the editor of the '.Standard ' means by all
this simply that he and myself disagree on some
points in reference to anti-slavery movements, and if
believing, as a matter of course, that his views are
correct and mine wrong, he chooses to express in this
way his dissent from my conclusions, and to expose
their folly and fallacy, I have nothing to say. Let him
argue down or laugh down my heresies, if he can.
He may rest assured that I can do justice to a sound
argument, even if it overthrows a favorite doctrine ;
and relish good-natured wit and humor, even when
exercised at my expense, consoling myself, like Fal-
staff, with the reflection, that if I have not wit myself,
I am 'the cause of wit in others.' Even if brother
Rogers should so far shut up the bowels of his com
passion as to quote my own poetry against me, and,
as in the case of poor Cinna, the poet in Shakspeare's
'Julius Caesar,' 'condemn me for my bad verses,'
however I might writhe under the infliction, I do n't
know as I should complain.
ii

162 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

" But if Nathaniel P. Rogers means (what his lan
guage somewhat strongly implies) to impeach my
character as an honest man — to assail my moral integ
rity — to brand me with the foul suspicion of treach
ery and hypocrisy ; as one wilfully recreant to the
cause of emancipation — I have only to say that his
recent voyage 'in search of a World's Convention*
has wrought in his head and heart a * sea-change '
which would have astonished the tenants of Pros-
pero's island — transforming the generous and high-
minded Christian gentleman into a false ' accuser of
his brethren ' — a Titus Gates swearing away more
than the life of his friend.

"I am told, in unqualified terms, that I shall never
be able to do anything more for that cause to which
I have devoted the morning of my life — on whose
altar I have laid all that I possessed. Indeed, it may
be so. He who, in His * dealings with the children
of men,' has seen fit to visit me with lingering pain
and illness, knows whether more labor will be re
quired at my hands in that cause, and, if so, will give
me strength to perform it."

It must be granted that Whittier, like another Ivan-
hoe, wielded a respectable weapon in this single-
handed fence with his group of opponents. And
the enemies of the Liberty party were by no means
puny men of their hands. To those named should
be added the witty Edmund Quincy, who described
the New Organization as the Devil's own. As his
Majesty was sitting once on a time (says he) in moody
meditation, "gnawing his bitter nail," and pondering
how he could destroy the usefulness of the Abolition
ists, " on a sudden, a happy thought flashed into his

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. 163

mind: 'Go to,' he exclaimed, rubbing his claws, and
wagging his tail in an ecstasy of infernal glee, — 'go
to, — I have it ! I will make fun of them ! ' And, even
as he spoke, out from his teeming brain, as did Sin
of old, leaped forth the Liberty party."1

In sober truth, the Liberty party was far from
being despicable, as the Garrisonians affirmed, and
still affirm. Oliver Johnson, as well as the sons of
Garrison, claim too much for their party, it seems to
me. It is with them, just as it ever was with William
Lloyd Garrison, all or nothing. Orna me ! was his
continual cry, and he often tripped over the perpen
dicular pronoun. His undying glory lies in his having
created, as none other did, unless it was Whittier, the
moral sentiment that finally destroyed slavery. Every
thing that he said was interesting ; his editorials are
trenchant pieces of reasoning (thought clear-cut and
lucid, no hair on the nib of his pen); he towers up
above everybody in his faction in moral earnestness
and strength. But he was unelastic, was lacking in
the mobility and tact of genius ; and when, after ten
years of agitation, the anti-slavery party was clearly
ripe for political action (as the issue demonstrated),
he and his adherents made the strategic mistake of
remaining stationary. Looking back, we can now
see that the despised and ridiculed Liberty party,
like the Independents of to-day, was on the right
track. Like the little Spartan band of John Brown,
their plans were not so wild as they have been repre
sented to be. John Brown knew well enough that
his force was small, but he expected to draw to it

1 Liberator, Jan. 5, '43.

164 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

thousands of blacks along the great Alleghany range.
So the new party of Liberty, seeing the South march
ing on from victory to victory, and the great question
of Texas looming up, saw that the time was come to
send the electric current through the nation and
crystallize the discordant elements into the serried
ranks of a great party : they expected to be joined
by hundreds of thousands of Whigs and Democrats
who should find their organization the nucleus of
union. "They judged, and the event has proved that
they judged wisely " (says Henry Wilson, in his " Rise
and Fall of the Slave Power ") " that by narrowing
the platform, even if it did not contain all that the
most advanced Abolitionists desired, if such men as
John P. Hale, Wilmot, Giddings, Palfrey, Seward, and
Mann could be drawn from the Whig and Democratic
parties and be thus arrayed in a compact and vigor
ous organization against the Slave Power, there
would be great gain."

The declaration of objects and principles of the
Liberty party, as set forth in their journals, — and
notably in their Almanac for 1846, J — shows that their
plans were well seasoned and not unfeasible, and
reveals their essential identity with the platform of
the Free-Soil party that came later. The Almanac
announces that their aim was to secure an anti-
slavery Congress and Executive, and thereby abolish
slavery in the District of Columbia, do away the
slave-trade, annul the Fugitive Slave Law, and, by
excluding slaveholders from all offices in the gift of

1 This seems to be the best and fullest statement of the objects
of the party that has been made.

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. 165

the appointing power, virtually disfranchise the
South, and render it imperative to close out the busi
ness of slavery altogether.

Now, the party did not succeed exactly in the way
it had hoped to do, yet indirectly did succeed. For
it was the elder brother of the Free-Soil party, and
got so mixed up with it in the bath-tub of the Buffalo
Convention of 1848 that its identity disappeared.
It is well known that at this Convention the members
of the Liberty party, after due consultation, dissolved
their organization (they were met in the same city,
at the same time) and took their seats among the
delegates of the just-born Free-Soil party; and it was
remarked by one of the speakers — and the mot was
applauded — that " without tasting death the Liberty
party had been translated." 1 But, now, remember
that the Free-Soil party was merged in the Repub
lican party, which held Kansas for the North, abol
ished slavery, and saved the Union.

Internal dissension was what killed the Liberty
party. In 1844, however, in voting for James G. Bir-
ney, it held the balance of power in New York, and
decided the presidential election against Clay, who
had expressed himself as willing to see Texas annexed
as a slave State. Says Schouler, " Had half of the
Birney votes of the election of 1844 been given to
Clay, he would have won the State." a This is a mat
ter of figures, and has not been disputed. It seems
to me that, if this Third party could have been held
together by some great leader, it would have drawn

1 Wilson's " Rise and Fall of the Slave Power," ii. 157.

2 History of United States, iv. 479.

166 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

to it all the elements that afterwards went to make
up the Republican party. It is idle to say that it did
not represent genuine anti-slavery principles because
it affiliated with Free-Soilers, who were many of them
only half-way anti-slavery. The fact remains that
the fiery thread of freedom ran through all the par
ties, — Liberty, Free-Soil, and Republican, — either
darkling or in the light, until it burst into flame in the
Emancipation Proclamation of 1863. Then, it is in
fact a great mistake to say that the Free-Soil party
was not anti-slavery. In their platform of 1852, arti
cle five demands that there shall be no new slave
territory; article seven, "immediate and total repeal
of the Fugitive Slave Act of 1850"; and article six
declares that " slavery is a sin against God, and a
crime against man, which no human enactment or
usage can make right; and that Christianity, human
ity, and patriotism alike demand its abolition." Can
language be stronger or more unequivocal than this?
Honor, then, to the gallant little Liberty party! And
let it never be forgotten that, while the Garrison and
Phillips faction of the Abolitionists was resting in
masterly inactivity (politically speaking) and coun
selling disunion, the Whittier and Birney party (as a
part of the Republican host) was rushing on amid the
whirl of events, and gathering in the Great West the
votes that saved the Union.

We have faithfully recorded, as a matter of history,
the differences of opinion and the partial alienation
of Garrison and Whittier; and we now note with
pleasure the gradual growth of reconciliation.

When in 1854 the souls of lovers of freedom in
Massachusetts were deeply stirred by the remanding

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. 167

of Anthony Burns to slavery, Whittier wrote to Garri
son that Abolitionists must forget all past differences
and unite their strength for the conversion of the
North. " If I had any love for the Union remaining,"
he writes, " the events of the last few weeks have
' crushed it out.1 But I do not forget that the same
power which is needed to break from the Union may
make the Union the means of abolishing slavery. At
any rate, what we want now is an abolitionized North.
To this end Unionists and Disunionists can both con
tribute. At least let us have union among ourselves.
In our hatred of slavery, our sympathy for our
afflicted colored brethren, and in our indignation
against the oppressor, we are already united; and let
us now unite, as far as may be, in action. For one,
my heart goes out to all who in any way manifest
love of liberty, and pity for the oppressed."1

In 1856 Whittier sends Garrison a copy of a new
edition of his poems, inscribed to his " old and affec
tionate friend," and Garrison graciously acknowl
edges the gift in a review in his paper.

With the outbreak of the Civil War, which took
the work of emancipation out of the hands of the
Abolitionists altogether, the last vestige of variance
disappears from the mind of Garrison (Whittier, as
we have seen, never had any hard feeling at all), and
henceforth all is concord. At the anniversary meet
ing of the American Anti-slavery Society in 1863,
Whittier was warmly eulogized by Garrison, who
said, " There are few living who have done so much
to operate upon the public mind and conscience and

1 Liberator, June 9, '54.

l68 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

heart of our country, for the abolition of slavery, as
John Greenleaf Whittier." And, when the poet's
seventieth birthday was celebrated in 1877, Garrison
wrote some cordial lines (which by a stretch of imag
ination might be called verses) in his honor.

It is almost needless to say that John G. Whittier
cast his vote and used his influence in favor of the
election of Abraham Lincoln to the presidential
chair. There are some humorous, ringing campaign
verses written by him for the first of the two Lincoln
election struggles. They have not heretofore appealed
in book form, but only as a campaign leaflet, or broad
side, and in newspapers thirty odd years ago.1 They
were read at a Republican meeting in Georgetown,
Massachusetts, in the autumn of 1860 :—

THE QUAKERS ARE OUT.

Not vainly we waited and counted the hours,

The buds of our hope have burst out into flowers.

No room for misgiving — no loop-hole of doubt, —

We Ve heard from the Keystone ! The Quakers are out.

The plot has exploded — we Ve found out the trick ;
The bribe goes a-begging ; the fusion won't stick.
When the Wide-Awake lanterns are shining about,
The rogues stay at home, and the true men are out !

The good State has broken the cords for her spun ;
Her oil-springs and water won't fuse into one ;
The Dutchman has seasoned his Freedom with Krout,
And slow, late, but certain, the Quakers are out !

1 The leaflet is headed " A Voice from John G. Whittier." The
poem may also be found in the "Liberator," 1860.

THE ANTI-SLAVERY CONTEST. 169

Give the flags to the winds ! set the hills all aflame !
Make way for the man with the patriarch's name !
Away with misgiving — away with all doubt,
For Lincoln goes in when the Quakers are out !

By way of response, somebody, assumed to be a
Quaker, wrote some verses in reply : —

" The Quakers are out ! They had better stay in
Than mix with the world in political din ;
What though the earth's potsherds together may smite ?
Keep the eye firmly fix'd and unmoved on the right," etc.

Since the war, brief letters from Mr. Whittier, in
support of candidates for the Republican party, have
appeared from time to time in the journals, and some
of them are included in the latest edition of his prose
writings. Every autumn, regularly, he goes down to
Amesbury, where he is a legal voter, and casts his
vote. He also takes a live interest in the struggles
of other peoples for freedom and for republican forms
of government,

CHAPTER III.

WHITTIER AT HOME.

WHITTIER is tall and erect in form, with quick
movements and alertness of glance. The strict old
Quaker regime forbade bows of salutation. The
Quaker poet's jerky nod is therefore a concession to
the world, but its deficiencies are amply supplied by
the pleasant smiJe that generally accompanies it. He
inherited one of those enviably sweet and lovable
natures that so often serve to insure success in life.
He is somewhat hard of hearing now, and his face is
grave and sad when not animated by conversation.
But ever and anon, as you talk with him, the features
are illumined by a sweet and sudden smile and a
kindly flash of the dark eyes. His "thee's" and
"thou's" and quaint rural solecisms of speech come
with the shock of a surprise when you first meet him.
But you like him all the better for them. The more
liberal Quakers have discarded the broad brims and
antique drab garments of Charles the Second's time.
Mr. Whittier generally wears a black or drab tile hat
and blacK undercoat. I have seen him on the street
in Amesbury, wearing a cinnamon-colored overcoat
and a small gray tippet around his neck. The long
backward and upward slope of the head gives it just
the shape of Walter Scott's and Emerson's. Mr.
Wasson keenly observes that this feature, together
170

WHITTIER AT HOME. 171

with the dark deep eyes full of shadowed fire, the
Arabian complexion, the sharp-cut, intense lines of
the face, the light tall stature, and quick axial poise
of movement, shows that Whittier is of the Saracenic
type. Mr. J. Miller McKim, who was with Whittier
at the Philadelphia Convention of 1833, says that at
that time, with his dark frock-coat with standing
collar, black flashing eyes, and black whiskers, he had
something of a military look, and was a noticeable
figure in the convention.

The next pen-portrait, in order of time, is given by
Thomas Wentworth Higginson.1 He describes an
interview he had with Whittier in 1843, " when the
excitement of the * Latimer Case ' still echoed through
Massachusetts, and the younger Abolitionists were
full of the 'joy of eventful living.' a I was then nine
teen," writes Mr. Higginson, "and saw the poet for
the first time at an eating-house, known as Campbell's,
then quite a resort for reformers of all sorts. I saw
before me a man of striking personal appearance ;
tall, slender, with olive complexion, black hair,
straight black eyebrows, brilliant eyes, and an Orien
tal, Semitic cast of countenance. This was Whittier
at thirty-five. I lingered till he rose from the table,
and then, advancing, I said with boyish enthusiasm, —
and I doubt not with boyish awkwardness also, — ' I

1 In the " Literary World," December, 1877.

2 The reference is to the attempt made in 1842 by James B. Gray,
of Norfolk, Virginia, to carry back from Boston his fugitive slave
George Latimer. A tremendous excitement was the result, and
meetings were held in Faneuil Hall, at which Wendell Phillips,
Frederick Douglass, and others made speeches. The excitement
was repeated on the floor of Congress.

172 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

should like to shake hands with the author of " Massa
chusetts to Virginia." The poet, who was, and is,
one of the shyest of men, broke into a kindly smile,
and said briefly, * Thy name, friend ?' I gave it, and
we shook hands, and that was all. But to me it was
like touching a hero's shield ; and though I have
since learned to count the friendship of Whittier as
one of the great privileges of my life, yet nothing has
ever displaced the recollection of that first boyish
interview."

A writer in the " Democratic Review" for 1845
notices in Whittier the " union of manly firmness and
courage with womanly sweetness and tenderness,
alike in countenance and character." Fredrika Bre-
mer writes in 1847 of his over-strained nervous sys
tem, his " nervous bashfulness." And here is a rather
flattering picture of him at forty-five, by George W.
Bungay : " His temperament is nervous-bilious ; [he]
is tall, slender and straight as an Indian ; has a superb
head ; his brow looks like a white cloud under his
raven hair ; eyes large, black as sloes, and glowing
with expression,— . . . those starlike eyes flash
ing under such a magnificent forehead."

The truest picture of all, it seems to me, is given
by genial Robert Collyer : ' —

"When you see Whittier, you see instantly it is the
Whittier of the pictures, only more thin and gray.
The pictures give you a larger head, yet not so fine
in the lines that mean most in a man of genius ; and
no picture can give you the eyes, smaller than those
we see in the portraits of Burns, but dark, intense,

Every Saturday, June 3, 1871.

WHITTIER AT HOME. 173

and tender, and, when he speaks of what touches him
intensely, all aglow with the light of his soul, — such
eyes, indeed, as you only see now in a picture by one
of the great masters. There is a hint of the Quaker,
you notice, in the cut of his dress, but not in the
color, which is black, — not new at all, but so spotless
as to make you wish he would take all your new gar
ments and put them through a course of training for
a few months, that they might get the habit of look
ing as pure and sweet as that when you came to wear
them. A Quaker in his speech, but using 'thee ' and
* thou ' with such a shy sweet grace as to make you
wonder whether the finest manners may not lurk,
after all, within the homely old Saxon terms ; quick
with his words, contrary to all his traditions and
training, and with no hint of the sacred sing-song his
sect has always held in such profound esteem, especi
ally in meet'n'."

And here is a little photograph showing the poet
among the voters of his own town of Amesbury. It
may go down to posterity to interest admirers of his
" After Election," — a marvelous improvisation, a
triumph over what to all but a poet would have
seemed hopelessly prosaic material.1 When George
M. White was in Amesbury on election day in Novem
ber, 1883, he went to the town-hall where farmers,
tradesmen, and mechanics were discussing in groups,

1 The strong phrases of this poem are familiar. The poet repre
sents himself as awaiting telegraphic election returns: "Hark! —
there the Alleghanies spoke " — " That signal from Nebraska
sprung" — " Is that thy answer strong and free, O loyal heart of
Tennessee?" — " In that wild burst the Ozarks spoke ! Cheer an
swers cheer from rise to set of sun. We have a country yet .' "

174 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

larger or smaller, the local issues: "Among these
figures there was pointed out to me the tall thin fig
ure of an old man wrapped in a long brown coat,
with a high fur collar and woolen mantle around
his neck, almost coming up to the brim of his tall
black hat. He was talking with the various groups
around him. He is much above the average height
of men, and few of his pictures that I have seen
resemble him. His hair and beard are quite white,
he wears no moustache, and his lips are set with an
expression of much decision and energy, which is
emphasized by a short quick utterance." '

Of late years Mr. Whittier has passed the greater
part of each winter in Boston, taking rooms in some
quiet hotel, such as the Winthrop, in Bowdoin Street,
on the northern slope of Beacon Hill. When he reads
a book, he usually takes up old and tried favorites ;
and, although very near the Athenaeum library,
neither he nor Dr. Holmes (so far as I know) is often
seen there, eagerly browsing among the latest books
and journals, as is their friend, Dr. Bartol. Occa
sionally Mr. Whittier can be entrapped into taking
an early tea with a Boston friend; but he never feels
able to stand the excitement of a large company and
late hours.

It was formerly his custom, and I believe still is
such, to spend a few weeks of each summer amid the
sublime and yet quiet and pastoral scenery of the
outskirts of the White Mountains. He used to put
up at the old Bearcamp House before this was burned
down. This old inn commanded a view of rough and

Harper's Monthly, Februaiy, 1883.

WHITTIER AT HOME. 175

savage Chocorua Mountain, and Mounts Israel and
Whittier. " There is an atmospheric bloom over all
the jagged ridges," writes Mr. S. J. Pickard, " which
is to the eye like the softness of velvet, but which
hides no outline and does not obliterate the distinc
tion between rock and forest. The colors change
from hour to hour: rich blues and dark purples alter
nate during the day, varied with cloud-shadows and
drifting gray mists." In the valley through which
the tree-fringed Bearcamp flows are orchards loaded
with fruit ; the tinkle of cow-bells is heard on the
mountain slopes. In the autumn the wayside fences
are festooned with clematis in bloom. By the road
side are masses of golden-rod and purple asters, and
the trees are crimson with woodbine.

Whittier's "Sunset on the Bearcamp" gives the
higher inspiration of this mountain scenery. There
was an inspiration equally strong, too, in the open
fireplaces of the inn. Your hot and ruddy wood fire
is a great thawer-out of conventional frigidities ;
and the fireplace of the Bearcamp Inn parlor was not
inferior to its fellows in this good work. Around it
used to gather not only Whittier and his friends, but
such celebrities as Lucy Larcom and Gail Hamilton,
with their relatives arid acquaintances ; and in the
basking heat the merriment often waxed deep and
subtle. Comic verses were improvised on rainy days,
and Whittier's gift of impromptu composition was
drawn upon for nonsense verses to season the feast.

Amesbury was Whittier's home for many years
before the death of his mother and sisters, and he
still owns the old home there. It is occupied by
friends. Portraits of mother and sister hang in the

176 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

little parlor; and he keeps in his study a few books
and pictures. The region round about has been cele
brated in his verse. From the study window the
green dome of Powow Hill is to be seen, — an eleva
tion which he frequently climbed with friends; across
the Merrimack rise "The Laurels"; and nearby is
the Powow River, and farther off the Artichoke, Lake
Attitash.and the green hills of Newbury. The intro
ductory lines of " Miriam " describe the view from
Powow Hill. The town contains manufactories of
cloth and of carriages. It is said to be named after
Ambresbury in England. It is a quiet peaceful old
village, especially in its outskirts of orchards and
meadows. Mr. Whittier's wooden house on Friend
Street is as plain as plain can be. It was originally a
one-story structure, but a second story with attic has
been added. A few hundred yards from it, in the
delta formed by the meeting of two streets, stands
the wooden meeting-house of the Friends, where the
poet has worshiped God after the ways of his
fathers ever since he was a boy. When the family
first came to Amesbury, he had with him his mother,
sister, and Aunt Mercy: the brother, Matthew, seems
early to have married and set up his own household
apart. After mother, aunt, and sister had succes
sively passed away, Greenleaf's niece kept house for
him until her marriage with Mr. S. T. Pickard. Whit-
tier then removed to Oak Knoll, a fine estate in Dan-
vers, nearer Boston, which is the property of cousins
of his.

On the table in the tiny parlor at Amesbury stands,
or stood, Rogers's group, " The Fugitive's Story,"
representing Whittier, Garrison, and Henry Ward

WHITTIER AT HOME. 177

Beecher listening to a black woman as she relates the
story of her flight from bondage. On the wall used
to hang a large picture of Longfellow facing one of
Whittier himself. The gracious and benignant face
of his mother, who is clothed in spotless drab, looks
down upon you, as does a crayon of the loved sister.
Here is a sketch of the little parlor as seen through
the eyes of an Englishman in 1885 :J —

"The small parlor into which the visitor is shown
is furnished with the dreary and prim commonplace-
ness of horsehair upholstery and the old-fashioned
conventional ornaments under glass shades. It might
be a Dissenting Minister's front room in some pro
vincial English town, like Leicester or Northampton,
not yet reached by the iconoclasm of modern aesthet-
icism. But Mr. Whittier's kindly greeting of * How
do thee do ? I'm glad to see thee,' dispels all surprise
by recalling the fact that he is not only a New
Englander, which means simple living from necessity,
but also a Quaker, which means simple living from
choice."

The study, or garden room, in the Amesbury house
is in the rear, one of its windows giving upon a long
strip of garden full of pear-trees and grape-vines,
and the other (a glass door) opening upon a little
side porch. Above was formerly his sleeping-room.
The Franklin stove with brass andirons furnishes the
open fire which is loved by all poets, but especially
by this one. Near the sashed door is the writing-
desk. Six book-shelves are fitted into the space
between the chimney and the side of the house, and

1 Quoted from the " Pall Mall Gazette."
12

178 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

contain such works as Charles Reade's novels, Irish
ballads, and the poems of Browning. A side shelf
on the wall is completely filled with a blue-and-gold
edition of the poets. On the walls hang a pen-and-
ink sketch of his brother Matthew, a portrait of
Emerson, paintings of Essex County scenes, — includ
ing water-colors by Harry Fenn and Celia Thaxter,
fringed gentians painted by Lucy Larcom, and Hill's
picture of the old farm-house. To this shrine of
poetry have come in days past such men as Garrison,
Longfellow, Sumner, Bayard Taylor, Wendell Phillips,
James T. Fields, Higginson, Wasson, Emerson, Whip-
pie, and many more as famous men. "To this nook,"
says Mrs. Spofford, "came Alice and Phoebe Gary on
their romantic pilgrimage, and here have come many
others of the illustrious women of the day, most of
whom he reckons as his friends in this generation,
as he did Lydia Maria Child and Lucretia Mott and
their contemporaries of the last. Here the poet has
taken his ease in the slippers that Gail Hamilton
made for him, the cunning fingers reconciling his
belligerency with his principles by clothing in Quaker
drab the enraged American eagle wrought upon them;
here he has amused himself teaching tricks to the
house animals, which, if he does not love, he loves to
play with; here has this verse been struck off like a
spark, and that one painfully labored after ; and here,
in spite of his laurels, have the thunder-bolts of the
gods twice sought the wearer, the last time felling
him to the floor as he stood in the doorway, pros
trating his niece at the same time, shattering a mirror,
and piercing a rolled-up window-shade till it left the
burned mark of a dozen jagged bullet-holes. After

WHITTIER AT HOME. 179

that the treacherous lightning-rods were removed,
his nephew tells us, but the pertinacious vender of a
new variety, who could not make the poet his victim,
had his revenge by heading his prospectus with a cut
of the lightning descending upon Mr. Whittier's
house, and doing the havoc it could not have done,
had the house owned this peculiar and particular
protector." '

Whittier is as deeply loved by the people of Ames-
bury as was Emerson by his neighbors in Concord,
or as was the Good Gray Poet by the citizens of Cam-
den. And the same is true of Whittier's neighbors
in Danvers, — his other home, which is an hour's ride
by cars from Amesbury, by the leisurely local train.

The old Boston path to Newburyport once led, by
an alternate and scarcely secondary line, directly by
the estate of Oak Knoll. Here once lived the Rev.
George Burroughs, who was pressed to death with
heavy weights for questionable dealings with Satan in
the days of the witchcraft delusion. The sounding-
board of the pulpit in the church where the witches
of the neighborhood were tried now covers the mouth
of a well on the estate. Oak Knoll is a farm of some
sixty acres, and lies about a mile and a half north
west of the village of Danvers. The stately house,
with its great Doric pillars, fronts the south, and
stands on elevated ground commanding a view of
distant hills and farms and towns. At some distance,
on the opposite side of the road, are the farm build
ings. The charms of landscape-gardening vie with
the wildness of nature to render this a place of

1 Harper's Monthly, January, 1884.

l8o JOHN G. WHITTIER.

delightful quiet and seclusion. The carriage-way
winds upward through bosky lawns kept trim by the
horse lawn-mower.

" Directly in front of the house," says Mr. Pick-
ard, " and completely encircled by the curving ap
proaches, is a picturesque knoll in the form of a
dome, covered with a luxuriant carpet of grass,
making one of the most charming lawns it is pos
sible to imagine. This knoll, the summit of which
is a little higher than the site occupied by the
house, is crowned by two magnificent trees, an oak
and a hickory. The estate might well have been
named for either of these noble trees. The grounds
slope toward the east, the south, and the west, with
just enough of irregularity to heighten the beauty of
the landscape in each direction. Trees, in clumps
and singly, deciduous and evergreen, are placed
with careful reference to artistic effect. The variety
of trees is very great, many of them being rarely
seen in New England. There is a fine magnolia
near the house, and farther off a tulip-tree. The
rich dark hue of a purple beech calls attention to
a fine grove in the western distance. There are
English elms and English oaks, an immense Norway
spruce, also hemlocks, pines, chestnuts, and almost
every other tree that can be made to grow in this
cli-mate. There are great orchards of apples and
pears ; a garden flanked with luxuriant grape-vines,
and yielding all the smaller fruits, as a matter of
course, also roses in abundance. Near the eastern
piazza of the house is a large circular flower garden
surrounded by a neat hedge, with great green arches
for gateways to it. In the centre of this garden is

WHITTIER AT HOME. l8l

a fountain throwing a fine spray to a considerable
height. In this garden Mr. Whittier is to be seen at
work each pleasant morning before breakfast, with
rake, hoe, and broom. All the beds and walks are
kept exquisitely neat, for the poet is thorough in
everything he undertakes."

No shooting is allowed on the estate, and squirrels
and birds sometimes come to the window to be fed.
The squirrels, says Mrs. Spofford, take liberties that
" puzzle such fellows as the little Dandie Dinmont
who has the care of the house upon his shoulders,
and who darts after them in a terrible fury, and
when he has treed them, in his wrath stands on his
hind feet, waves his paws, and whines, begging them
to come down." Mrs. Bolton writes, in one of her
books for young people, of one of the dogs coming
out to welcome her and holding up a bruised paw
for sympathy, while the mocking-bird on the porch
talked so much louder than she and Mr. Whittier
that he was obliged to cover up its cage.

Among the ornaments of the roomy parlor are
a portrait of Whittier painted when he was about forty,
a statuette of Charles Sumner, and a verd-antique
statue of Hercules once owned by Mr. Sumner. A
little library, opening on the western veranda, was
built especially for Mr. Whittier. On its walls are
hung paintings of the Bearcamp and Ossipee region.
"Above the parlor," says Mrs. Spofford, " is his
spacious sleeping-room, furnished after Mr. East-
lake's ideas. Here hang a fine marine view, a sketch
of the Shoals, and a portrait of Hawthorne, an
other cherished friend. The windows, which are on
three sides of the room, command all the beauty

l82 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

of the place — flower-garden and fountain, the velvet
turf of the knoll, the stately groups of trees against
a western sky, and the lofty lawns about the turreted
asylum on the distant hill."

In the autumn of 1889 Sir Edwin Arnold pub
lished in his paper, the London " Telegraph," brief
notes of a visit paid by him to Oak Knoll : —

" Mr. Whittier's conversation, which was of the
Quaker fashion, full of ' thees ' and * thous,' was
pointed, animated, and marked by the felicity of
his printed works ; nor can any cultured person
need to be told how classic and lucid and happy
are many of Whittier's best lines. He smiled, half
sadly, when I expressed the wish that he could
come across the Atlantic to see, under the memorial
window to Milton, in St. Margaret's Church at West
minster, his own admirable verse : —

' The New World honors thee, whose lofty plea
For England's freedom made her own more sure.
Thy page, immortal as its theme, shall be
Their common freehold, while the worlds endure.'

He dropped a bright epigram in the course of our
chat. I had been praising Emerson, and lamenting
that a great authority — known to us both — dis
sented, and compared the Concord philosopher's
style in prose to ' the shooting forth of stones from
a sack.' 'Ah! but,' replied instantly the old poet,
* thee knows well, friend, they are all precious
stones.' And I was happy enough to obtain an
interesting avowal from his lips. He had been
speaking of the enduring and gloomy influence of
the old accustomed Puritan doctrines upon the

WHITTIER AT HOME. 183

minds of New Englanders, of their pernicious dark
ening of life and literature, and how he himself had
come under the cloud of Calvinism and its terrors.

* But you,' I said, * sir, born in the purple of the
Muses, never were, and never could have been, a
Calvinistic Puritan.' * Nay, thee are right,' he an
swered, 'the world was much too beautiful and God
far too good. I never was of that mind.' "

In the midsummer of '89 the veteran Abolitionist
John M. Barbour published in the "Watchman"
some reminiscences of Whittier and Oak Knoll which
have the charm of old-fashioned graciousness and
entire unconsciousness of any infringement of the
laws of propriety. Indeed, the privileges of age and
life-long friendship bar that. Mr. Barbour says what
I should not dare to say, and I shall therefore let
him speak:—

" On Tuesday, June 4, I was at the depot at the
hour named. The coach was there: the lovely young
daughter of the genial and accomplished Mrs. Wood
man (who has just published the charming book,

* Picturesque Alaska,' ' which everybody should read)
jumped from the carriage with the buoyancy of health
ful youth, and gave me a hearty welcome. We soon
arrived at * Oak Knoll,' one of the most delightful
spots on earth. The copious rains seemed to have
drawn the living verdure from the ground, while the
century-old oaks and elms shading the old mansion
made everything beautiful in the extreme. The five
ladies and the venerable poet gave me a genuine wel-

1 " Picturesque Alaska," by Abby Johnson Woodman, Hough-
ton, Mifflin & Co., 1889. Introductory note by Mr. Whittier.

184 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

come ; though they feared ' Uncle Greenleaf ' was
too tired to enjoy my company, as nineteen unex
pected callers had been there yesterday. I told them
I would behave as well as I knew how ; that they
must not allow me to trespass upon his time or
strength. We then retired to his sanctum. He
seated me in a large, plush arm-chair, convenient to
his best ear. We began the eventful history of mutual
friends by whose agency, through God's mighty pur
pose, the dark stain of slavery was swept from our
country. Alvan Stewart, Gerrit Smith, Pierpont,
Adams, Garrison, Phillips, Sumner, Rantoul, Leavitt,
Colver, Webster, Gushing, and others now with the
great silent majority, were discussed. We threw
aside all restraint, were young again, reviewed the
past, when, as disciples of Wilberforce, Clarkson,
Buxton, and Sturge, we knew it was wrong to buy
and sell human souls, before Garrison and Phillips
came on the active stage of life. He said, ' Friend
Barbour, I can remember but four of the old Aboli
tionists — Bowditch, Sewall [Samuel E. Sewall has
since passed away], thyself, and myself — now living.
Did thee ever get hurt in any of the mobs that have
so disgraced our country?' I told him I had been
driven from many places by violence. I inquired
whether he had ever suffered personal injury. 'Yes,'
said the good man, * I was pelted by the mob and
badly hurt in my face by a large stone. I was sub
sequently told, by one of the party, that their pur
pose was to catch me and paint my face black, so
that I would be a " real nigger." But it was not
accomplished.'

"The little silver bell rang for dinner. Mrs. Wood-

WHITTIER AT HOME. 185

man called me from the library, and placed us in
proper order at the table. I was near the poet,
whom they almost idolize. The six ladies and two
men bowed their heads in silent prayer, for about the
space of three or four minutes of marked solemnity.
Then the most social, genial, cheerful conversation
marked the more than an hour of the admirably pre
pared and highly appreciated dinner. Mrs. Mary A.
Livermore was announced at the door. Mr. Whittier
retired with her to the library. The others of this
sweet domestic circle, with myself, gathered in a large
room nearly filled with cherished memorials and
valuables, presented to him by hosts of friends and
admirers from all parts of the world. At this
moment in rushed ' Robin Adair,' the huge Scotch
collie which I had known in my former visits. He
seemed to know me, was quite familiar, but the grand-
niece of Whittier mildly rebuked him for his ardor.
I invited him to rest his head in my lap, fondled him,
and he seemed as happy as the rest of the family, of
whom he is a decided pet.

" Mr. Whittier has just passed his eighty-first year,
is feeble, and suffers much from neuralgic pains.
When I told him that at eighty-four I was unac
quainted with pain of any kind, never spent a whole
day in bed in my long life, he said, with an expressive
smile, that I * ought to be a better man, however good
I might be.'

" I was after this led by the young lady to the
home of the valued Jersey cows, with their young
calves. They never slaughter any of their animals.
'Robin Adair' accompanied us, and was directed to
call them from their hiding-places under the barns,

l86 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

which he did with vociferous alacrity. She asked
me if they were not beauties. I candidly acknowl
edged that they were. I told her that one of my
grandsons had 'a string of twenty-five such Jerseys'
in Oregon, which he milked every morning and
evening, and had a personal acquaintance with each
cow.

" The time for my departure seemed near. She
said, ' No, not yet, I am posted as to trains; at the
proper moment I will have the coach at the door.' I
was then led to the garden surrounded by the old-
fashioned box-plant, trimmed to about eighteen
inches high. It was filled with magnolia and tulip
trees, and flowers of various kinds in all their lavish
beauty. They pressed upon me an armful to be
taken to my home for my grandchildren, which, after
examination, the venerable poet said was not com
plete; he added a new variety which he thought they
had not seen. This delightful family is based
upon the religion of Jesus Christ; its members be
lieve in the constant influence of the Holy Spirit.
They are Friends in word and deed, of high culture
and intelligence."

The young lady spoken of by Mr. Barbour above,
Phcebe Woodman, assists " Uncle Greenleaf " with his
correspondence, and he in turn has presented her
with a beautiful horse.

Mr. Barbour's paper may be supplemented by a
few notes on the poet's personal traits.

I have already alluded to his rural peculiarities of
speech. This is something that elicits the sympathy
of the farmers and laborers who meet him. A friend '

Mr. William M. Fullerton, ex-editor of the Boston "Advertiser."

WHITTIER AT HOME. 187

once got on his track up somewhere by Mt. Monad-
nock. "Why," said an old farmer, "he's just as
natural and like folks as can be. He wrote some
poems [!] right out here in the yard, on a board he
picked up, and he was sittin' in a kitchen chair he
brought out, lookin' toward 'Chusett yonder. His
poems we can understand, though we 're not book
people; he 's like folks, Whittier is."

Mr. George M. White gives in " Harper's Monthly "
some amusing chat by Whittier on onions and boiled
dinners, etc. He never uses tobacco in any shape,
nor drinks alcoholic liquors, it seems, but stated that
he had once, when he was unwell, and nothing tasted
good, derived much benefit from cider. Cabbage and
cucumbers he eschews as abominations. Cabbage
cooked in the house makes the most diabolical smell
that was ever invented; you have got to burn your
house down to get rid of the odor (" and Whittier,
who was sitting near the open-stove cfi'ate, upon the
top of which he had deposited his ttu. hat, folded his
hands and laughed a hearty, silent laugh "). Onions
he thought not quite so bad, for you can get the
odor of those out of the house after three or four
days.

"Then," said his friend, "you would not approve
of the old-fashioned boiled dinner?"

" No. I think that is a detestable dish. I remem
ber that my father used to have it, in which cabbage,
onions, beets, potatoes, turnips, and carrots were all
boiled up together, and turned out into a great dish all
in a heap, with a great greasy piece of meat in the mid
dle. I think that is the reason why the present gene
ration is not so strong as the former. It is owing to

188 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

the way the parents lived, eating so much pork and
potatoes. Our last war showed that. The farmers
were not nearly so strong as the men recruited in the
cities, — Portland, Portsmouth, and Boston."

Recent investigations are showing that color
blindness affects vastly more people than was imag
ined. And the same is true of the newly talked of
astigmatization, or inability to rightly estimate the
dimensions of objects. A lady friend of the poet
(Mrs. Harriet Prescott Spofford) tells us that he
must be classed with the color-blind. Once when
the library fire had damaged the wall-paper near it,
he matched the pattern at the store " and triumph
antly replaced it before detection." But great was
the amusement of the women to find that he had sub
stituted a crimson vine for a green one.

Mr. Whittier's health has always been delicate. He
says he thinks he was born with a headache. Since
the Philadelphia mob he has only at intervals been
free from pain ; and this accounts for his almost in
variably having to decline invitations to public
gatherings.

Writing to Garrison in 1855 to enclose a contribu
tion to the Vigilance Committee fund for helping on
the cause of resistance to the Fugitive Slave Law,
Whittier says : " Does thee remember Felicia He-
mans's lyric of the Captive Crusader? From his cell
the prisoner hears the march of his troop, the ringing
of bridle chains, and the sound of trumpets, and
sees the flash of their spears, and the flutter of their
pennons in the sun and wind. I think I can appreci
ate the captive's state of mind, since illness, for the
most part, has made me a spectator where I would

WHITTIER AT HOME. 189

fain have been an actor, for the past three or four
years." '

In another place he writes : " I inherited from both
my parents a sensitive, nervous temperament ; and
one of my earliest recollections is of pain in the head,
froiH which I have suffered all my life. For many
year£ I have not been able to read or write for more
than half an hour at a time, often not so long. Of
late, my hearing has been defective. But in many
ways I have been blessed far beyond my deserving,
and, grateful to the Divine Providence, I tranquilly
await the close of a life which has been longer, and
on the whole happier, than I had reason to expect,
although far different from that which I dreamed of
in youth."

Such sentiments as these last give the key to his
temperament, which is never morbid or melancholy,
but light and cheerful, in spite of ill health. The
sense of the ludicrous is very keen in him. This is
remembered of him by his old associates of the Hav-
erhill Academy days; and everybody who has talked
with him perceives it. In his writings it appears in
such verses as "The Demon of the Study," 4< The
Pumpkin," and " The Double-headed Snake." When
on his vacations, he likes to sit on the piazza of the
hotel, noting with keen eye the foibles and idiosyn
crasies of people who go and come. Speaking once
of his early anti-slavery toils and sufferings, he said,
" I try to remember only the bright and good." Then,
with merriment in his eye, " I have forgotten all the
mischief I did." If the letters of Whittier shall any

Liberator, April 6, '55.

190 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

of them be published hereafter, the genial humor of
his nature will be seen to be a very conspicuous trait.
Two letters, already printed, are here given. To the
National Carriage Builders' Association of which he
and Holmes were oddly made members in 1880, he
wrote as follows: —

" I am not a builder, in the sense of Milton's phrase
of one who could 'build lofty rhyme.' My vehicles
have been of humbler sort, merely the farm-wagons
and backwoods of verse, and not likely to run so
long as Dr. Holmes's ' One-Horse Shay,' the construc
tion of which entitles him to the first place in your
Association. I should not dare to warrant any of my
work for a long drive."

To an officer of the Egypt Exploration Fund
society he wrote in 1884:—

"I am glad to have my attention called to the ex
cavation of Zoan. The enterprise commends itself
to every reader of the Bible, and every student of the
history and monumental wonders of Egypt. I would
like to have a hand in it. I hesitate a little about
disturbing the repose of some ancient mummy, who,
perchance, ' hobnobbed with Pharaoh, glass to glass,
or dropped a halfpenny in Homer's hat, or doffed his
own to let Queen Dido pass.' But curiosity gets the
better of sentiment, and I follow the example of Dr.
Holmes by enclosing an order on Lieut. -Gov. Ames
for one of his best shovels."

In reference to his bachelorhood and early loves,
some have thought they were on the right trail in his
poems. "Benedicite,"" My Playmate, "and "Memories."
But he guards his secret well. He was evidently in
terested, like all young men, in a good many girls in

WHITTIER AT HOME. 191

his neighborhood. In 1832 he wrote the following
stanzas, which are perhaps autobiographic: '—

" I do not love thee, Isabel, and yet thou art most fair !
I know the tempting of thy lips, the witchcraft of thy hair,
The winsome smile that might beguile the shy bird from his

tree;
But from their spell I know so well, I shake my manhood free.

" I might have loved thee, Isabel ; I know I should, if aught
Of all thy words and ways had told of one unselfish thought ;
If through the cloud of fashion, the pictured veil of art,
One casual flash had broken warm, earnest from the heart.

*******

" I do not love thee, Isabel ; I would as soon put on
A crown of slender frost-work beneath the heated sun,
Or chase the winds of summer, or trust the sleeping sea,
Or lean upon a shadow, as think of trusting thee."

Some years ago an article appeared in a Western
paper stating that a lady who had recently died was
the fair one once beloved of Whittier. He wrote to
the editor that the article was very interesting, but
decidedly imaginative, since he had not seen the per
son mentioned since she was nine years old.8

His love of children is very marked. He has writ
ten several children's poems (" Red Riding Hood,"
" King Solomon and the Ants," etc.) and stories in
prose, and published two books of Selections for
children's reading. He will take a hand in children's
sports, and has been known to lose an important
train that he might give a ride to a group of village

1 From the library edition of the poems, 1888.

2 Mrs. Sarah K. Bolton's " How Success is Won," p. 54.

IQ2 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

children who besieged the door of his hack. He was
known among the children of Amesbury as the man
with the parrot. He describes this bird in one of his
poems:—

" Behind us at our evening meal

The gray bird ate his fill,
Swung downward by a single claw,
And wiped his hooked bill.

" He shook his wings and crimson tail,

And set his head aslant,
And, in his sharp impatient way,

Asked, ' What does Charlie want ? ' "

This plaintive bird also had the habit, we are told,
of crying " Whoa ! " when teams passed the house,
and " Run in, boys ! run in ! " to the schoolboys when
their bell rang. Another little incident will show
Whittier's popularity among the boys. In the summer
of 1876, while he was staying at the Sturtevant farm
house, back of Centre Harbor on Lake Winnepesau-
kee, word was sent to him that a lot of boys from
Camp Chocorua in Holderness would make their
picnic rendezvous next day under the great Whittier
pine on Sunset Hill. He gladly complied with the im
plied invitation to be present ; and, shortly after the
boys got there, he was seen approaching in a carriage
through the woodland road, and was greeted with a
round of tremendous cheers. He of course re
sponded by shaking hands all around and enjoyed it
as much as did the boys.1

1 Boston Advertiser, Dec. 17, 1887.

WHITTIER AT HOME. 193

His kindness to children is matched by his tender
sympathy for unfortunate men and women, and his
generous toleration of opinions and customs different
from his own (smoking, for instance). He says he
always reads a book with sympathy for the author ;
that it is easy to tear it to pieces by criticism, but he
tries to find its merits. His purse has always been
open for the relief of the destitute, — $50, for example,
to the sufferers by a recent fire in Lynn. His
hospitable nature he inherits from his mother, and
will put himself to serious inconvenience rather than
turn away a worthy guest. And yet he is keen to
detect mere curiosity-hunters and spongers. Though
even these he is too tender-hearted harshly to rebuff.
Mrs. Child writes amusingly of his attempts to get
rid of bores. " I was amused," she says, " to hear
his sister describe some of these irruptions [of gen
teel tramps] in her slow Quakerly fashion. ' Thee
has no idea,' said she, 'how much time Greenleaf
spends in trying to lose these people in the streets.
Sometimes he comes home and says, " Well, sister, I
had hard work to lose him, but I have lost him." '
' But I can never lose a her,' said Whittier. ' The
women are more pertinacious than the men ; don't
thee find them so, Maria?' I told him I did. 'How
does thee manage to get time to do anything? ' said
he. I told him I took care to live away from the
railroad, and kept a bulldog and a pitchfork, and
advised him to do the same." Like all prominent
literati, Whittier is deluged with manuscripts for his
perusal and opinion, and with applications for auto
graphs. His patience is unfailing; and, notwithstand
ing his almost constant headaches, he reads and
13

194 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

returns, often at his own expense, many long manu
scripts sent to him. He used to answer, it is stated,
as many as two thousand applications for autographs
in a year. To an English friend he said, " My letters
average twenty-five and thirty a day, and when I 'm
sick they accumulate ; and then, when I get well, I
make myself sick again trying to catch up with my
answers to them."

As the years roll on the bores increase with alarm
ing rapidity. Whittier's life at present is said to be
made a burden to him by inroads of gaping tourists,
who push into his house to look at the curiosity, but
have no adequate idea of himself or his works.

Speaking of bores, a little story about his poem
"The Barefoot Boy " is in point : Mr. Whittier once
wrote to Prang, the publisher of chromos, some
words of praise for his chromo of " The Barefoot
Boy." His words were stolen by rival publishers
and affixed to a mean imitation of the Prang picture,
—a piece of baseness which elicited the following
indignant letter to Mr. Prang: " I have heard of writers
who could pass judgment upon works of art without
seeing them ; but the part assigned me by this use
of my letter to thee, making me the critic of a thing
not in existence, adds to their ingenuity the gift of
prophecy. It seems to be hazardous to praise any
thing. There is no knowing to what strange uses
one's words may be put. When a good deal younger
than I am now, I addressed some laudatory lines to
Henry Clay ; but the newspapers soon transferred
them to Thomas H. Benton, and it was even said that
the saints of Nauvoo made them do duty in the
apotheosis of the Prophet Joseph Smith. My opinions

WHITTIER AT HOME. 19$

as an art-critic are not worth much to the public ;
and, as they seem to be as uncertain and erratic in
their directions as an Australian boomerang, I shall,
I think, be chary in future of giving them. I do n't
think I should dare speak favorably of the Venus de
Medici, as I might expect to find my words affixed to
some bar-room lithograph of the bearded woman." '

It is a happy custom nowadays in America publicly
to celebrate the birthdays of our elder poets. Mr.
Whittier has been at least five times the recipient
of this honor. His seventieth birthday was celebrated
by a grand symposium of writers in the " Literary
World " newspaper, and by a banquet given in his
honor at the Hotel Brunswick in Boston by his pub
lishers. Mr. Garrison returned the compliment that
had been paid him by Whittier forty-five years before,
and wrote some lines in honor of his life-long Quaker
friend. So did Longfellow and Holmes. Emerson
read Whittier's " Ichabod " to the company. Whit-
tier's " Response " (" Beside that milestone where the
level sun ") is a fragment of verse of great power.
Over the centre of the dining-table was hung a new
portrait of Whittier wreathed with ivy, and opposite
it was a view of his birthplace. It is interesting to
note that the negro waiters took a deep interest in
the proceedings, delighted with the reverence paid to
the man who had done so much for them.

About the same time a Whittier Club was formed
in Haverhill, and the ladies of Amesbury presented
their distinguished townsman with a portfolio of
water-color views of many scenes in the Merrimack
Valley that he has described in his poems.

1 Evenings in the Library, by George W. Stewart, Jr. ,p. 138.

196 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

Mr. Whittier's seventy-fifth birthday, in 1882, was
passed quietly in his rooms at the Hotel Winthrop in
Boston. The citizens of Amesbury wished him to
spend the day in Amesbury and hold a reception, but
he was obliged to decline on account of indisposition.
He said that it seemed a rather queer thing to con
gratulate a man that he was seventy-five years old.
He thought the weather of Boston very trying.
" I am a New Englander, and I love New England,"
said he ; " but my seventy-five years of life here have
failed fairly to acclimate me."

On the day when he attained his seventy-seventh
year many friends called to congratulate him at
Oak Knoll, more than forty letters were received
from friends abroad, and baskets of roses and a huge
birthday cake from nearer friends. A few weeks before
he had written to a friend apropos of public congrat
ulations: " I have reached an age when flattery
ceases to deceive and notoriety is a burden, and the
faint shadow of literary reputation fails to hide the
solemn realities of life."

On Sept. 10, 1885, a reunion of the Haverhill Acad
emy class of 1827-30 was held in the rectory of St.
John's Church, in Haverhill. The central figure and
theme was the poet Whittier. A representative of the
Boston "Advertiser" who was present says: In the
company was one man who seemed neither to accept
nor comprehend the situation. That man was John
G. Whittier. His face and demeanor would have
afforded study for a psychologist. The face was one
on which was " a look of shyness, of surprise, of per
plexity, withal; a countenance irradiated by recipro
cal affection and pleasure in seeing others pleased.

WHITTIER AT HOME. 197

That it was fifty-seven years since he had entered
Haverhill Academy he remembered with a certain
sweet melancholy. That everybody was vying with
everybody else in making love to him he could not
help observing. But what it was all about, and why
people would persist in talking of him when he wanted
other more congenial topics to be uppermost, — these
things evidently puzzled him." The reporter speaks
of the winning way in which Whittier seemed to take
him into his confidence as he placed in his hands the
manuscript of the verses he had written for the occa
sion, explaining to him the motives for various lines
as called forth by old memories. A few days after
this meeting Mr. Whittier was presented with an
album containing photographs of many of his old
classmates.

By 1887 Whittier could say with the old man in
"Macbeth":—

" Threescore and ten I can remember well :
Within the volume of which time, I have seen
Hours dreadful, and things strange."

But not more dreadful hours than hours delightful,
surely, if one may judge by those of his eightieth
birthday. James Parton wrote of him ! that he was
carrying his burthen of eighty years with considerable
ease and with constant cheerfulness, walking with
alert step, and seeming better than he was five years
before. His birthday was celebrated by the school

1 In the pleasant memorial tribute which occupied several pages
of the Boston " Advertiser " of Dec. 17, 1887, and which has been
several times quoted in this volume.

198 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

children of the whole country. The Essex Club of
Boston presented him with a large album containing
a eulogy by Senator Hoar and other papers. At Oak
Knoll there was a busy day. The morning was clear
and brilliant, air bracing, skies high and blue. Every
room in the house was adorned with gift-baskets and
bouquets of roses and other flowers. An overflowing
basket of fruit arrived, and was placed on the dining-
room table opposite the great birthday cake. In the
library stood a basket of eighty roses edged with
ferns, — the gift of ladies of Boston. On an open book
of Cornelia Cook roses, margined with yellow ones
and intersprinkled with violets, lay a pen of violets;
on the broad white satin book-mark was inscribed the
closing stanza of " My Triumph": —

" I feel the earth move sunward,
I join the great march onward,
And take, by faith, while living,
My freehold of thanksgiving."

The colored students of Hampton sent a sofa cushion ;
and from the new town of " Whittier " in California
came an advance copy of the town's newspaper, with
an editorial greeting. The Governor of the Common
wealth cut the birthday cake and offered pieces to
each visitor. All day the poet passed to and fro
among the guests, now greeting a bevy of children in
the parlor, now conversing with old friends in the
library, and again in the dining-room offering refresh
ments to some new caller.

Contributors to the " Boston Advertiser's " sym-
posial Whittier number were such friends as Edward
Everett Hale, Oliver Wendell Holmes, Walt Whit-

WHITTIER AT HOME. 199

man, Dr. Bartol, Senator Hoar, and T. W. Higginson.
Here is Walt Whitman's striking bit of verse:—

" As the Greek's signal flame, by antique records told,
Rose from the hill-top, like applause and glory,
Welcoming in fame some special veteran, hero,
With rosy tinge reddening the land he 'd served,
So I aloft from Mannahatta's ship-fringed shore
Lift high a kindled brand for thee, Old Poet."

And here are some of the lines of Dr. Holmes: —
" Friend, whom thy fou , score winters leave more dear
Than when life's roseate summer on thy cheek
Burned in the flush of manhood's manliest year,
Lonely, how lonely ! is the snowy peak
Thy feet have reached, and mine have climbed so near !
Close on thy footsteps 'mid the landscape drear
I stretch my hand thine answering grasp to seek,
Warm with the love no rippling rhymes can speak!

On Dec. 17, 1889, Whittier's health was so poor
that he was obliged to ask his editorial friends to
state his inability to endure the excitement of birth
day demonstrations or to answer many letters. The
day was celebrated by a flag-raising at a Whittier
School, and by a general observance of Whittier Day
in the public schools of the country.

On Dec. 17, 1891, the fullest and most enthusias
tic birthday celebration of all — and the last — was
held at the home of Joseph Cartland in Newburyport
(also once the home of the Harriet Livermore of
" Snow-Bound "). Mr. Whittier exercised all his old-
Hme hospitality, and stood the fatigue very well. The
" Boston Advertiser " and the " Boston Journal " pub
lished notable Whittier numbers in honor of the
New England poet.

JOHN G. WHITTIER.

LAST HOURS.

And here, alas, our narrative of the poet's life must
draw to a close. For the fell sergeant Death has laid
his mace upon the shoulder of the revered minstrel,
the beloved citizen-poet of New England, and sum
moned him away. It but remains briefly to tell of
his last hours, and then to let the curtain fall.

Mr. Whittier had been passing the summer of 1892
in quiet enjoyment at "Elmfield," in Hampton Falls,
N. H., the town where his Batchelder and Hussey an
cestors once lived, the home of his young Quaker
friend, Miss Abby Gove. Miss Gove is a member of
the once flourishing society of Friends in Hampton
Falls, but has of late years worshiped in- the little
Friends' church in Amesbury. Mrs. Edward Gove
was an eloquent preacher, and Whittier wrote a
memorial poem on her death.1 What drew him to
Miss Gove's was his desire to escape summer visitors.
One day, after meeting, he said to her, " Abby, has
thee a spare room up at thy house? " Her answer
was Yes. His room opened on a balcony command
ing a view of the sea near Rivermouth Rocks and
Hampton Beach, scenes of his earlier poems. He
and his friends took their meals at the tavern adjoin
ing, reached by a moment's walk through a pine
grove.

The Gove residence on "the hill" is rich in treas-

1 So Mr. F. B. Sanborn says, who, as well as Whittier, is a de
scendant of Stephen Batchelder, and lived as a boy in this neigh
borhood.

WHITTIER AT HOME. 199&

ures of old Colonial days. It stands a little off of the
winding road with its venerable elms. Across the
way is an old orchard containing paths and rustic
seats. Here Whittier otten strolled, or from the
piazza watched through a glass the sails upon the
blue sea, or conversed with friends, or read the
papers and magazines. It had been his intention to
return with the Cartlands to their home in New-
buryport on September 6. He was first takjn ill on
August 31. By Saturday, September 3, a remarkable
irregularity of the heart s action was experienced,
and he grew suddenly worse. Dr. John A. Doug
las of Amesbury, and Dr. Frances E. Howe of Nevv-
buryport, and Dr. Sarah Ellen Palmer of Boston
were the physicians called to his bedside. Mr. Whit-
tier was conscious and able to recognize those about
him, but was at first unable to articulate, and seemed
to be suffering from partial paralysis of the left side.
He made several unavailing attempts to communi
cate something to his nephew, Mr. Pickard, appar
ently on some matter of business. On September
5 he seemed slightly better and took a little nour
ishment. He was fully aware of his critical condition,
and whispered to the loving friends who were con
stantly bathing his head, " It is of no use." To his
niece, Mrs. Pickard, who asked him if he knew her,
he replied, " Yes, I have known you all the time."

A cable message of sympathy was received on
Wednesday from friends in England. Neighbors
calling wero, however, not allowed to enter the room
of the dying man.

At 4.30 of the yth of September Whittier calmly
breathed his last, surrounded by some of his closest

199^ JOHN G. WHITTIER.

relatives. In Amesbury and Haverhill, as soon as
the news was known, bells were tolled and flags dis
played at half-mast. The funeral occurred at the
Whittier home in Amesbury on Saturday at 2.30.
Memorial exercises were held and addresses made
(in place of the usual funeral exercises) in the pretty
garden in the rear of the house, while the dead poet
lay within, flower-surrounded, in the little front par
lor. E. C. Stedman, Elizabeth Stuart Phelps, Parker
Pillsbury, Mrs. Spofford, and many other personal
friends were present. Whittier was buried in the
Friends' Cemetery in the family lot. Thousands of
people visited the grave on the days immediately
following the funeral. The old farmhouse at Haver-
hill was draped in mourning and the public offices
closed during the hour of the funeral, while the
city schools at the same time gave up the hour to
exercises appropriate to the occasion. Memorial
services were also held in Danvers and Salem and by
citizens of Amesbury.

By his will Whittier bequeathed to relatives some
$50,000 or more in sums ranging from $500 to $15,-
ooo, the largest bequest being to his niece, Mrs.
Lizzie T. Pickard, who kept house for him so long in
Amesbury. He left her $15,000, his two houses in
Amesbury, and two or three minor gifts. The list
of relatives remembered by cash gifts is a long one —
no one forgotten (good, kind Uncle Greenleaf!). To
Lucy Larcom he left $500 and the copyright of two
of his works, and to Sarah Orne Jewett and Annie
Fields a painting each. His Amesbury furniture and
pictures and books go to Mrs. Pickard, and the same
at Oak Knoll to the members of that household.

WHITTIER AT HOME. 199^

Various charitable organizations of Essex County
and the Hampton (Virginia) school each received
legacies. His manuscripts and other papers go u
his literary executor, Mr. S. T. Pickard. The amount
of property he left — from $75,000 to $100,000 about —
will be a surprise to those who suppose poetry never
pays. But to be a popular poet and a Quaker means
thrift and wealth.

On the day of Whittier's death a Boston paper
gave some interesting gossip about his old winter
haunt, the Hotel Winthrop in Boston. It seems that
he got acquainted with this quiet hostelry through
the accident of going there to call on Celia Thaxter
in 1881, and in November of that year he joined the
ladies of his Oak Knoll home at this hotel in Boston
and passed his first winter there. The fire-escape of
his room made a little balcony looking out upon the
ivied old church of St. John the Evangelist. His
reception-room was the parlor. His method of get
ting about for long distances was to take a herdic.
Writing from Amesbury in 1884, he said, alluding to
the severe winters of New England, "I wish the Pil
grim Fathers had drifted around Cape Horn and
landed at Santa Barbara instead of Plymouth Rock,
and I had in consequence been born in a land of
flowers instead of ice." However, to the same corre
spondent he wrote that " life at four-score was worth
living." Mr. Whittier said he liked the Winthrop be
cause of its quiet and because in the great hotels he
was overwhelmed with service, but here it seemed
more like home. He had always been used to wait
ing upon himself, and he liked a place where they
would let him do so.

199' JOHN G. WHITTIER.

Little facts of interest that transpired after his
death were such as that he never spent more than
$50 a year on his dress; that his income was "about
that of the average college professor"; that he was
fond of splitting wood for exercise; that his tea was
imported especially for him, and kept in a painted
porcelain jar; that he had no musical sense and didn't
know one tune from another; that he never at
tended a theatrical performance in his life nor
(so the tradition in Amesbury runs) ever rose to
speak on religion in the Friends' meetings; that he
once or twice expressed regret that he had never
married; and that his reason for never having traveled
was that the reading of books of travel left such a
vivid picture in his mind of the scenes described as
made it seem superfluous for him to visit them himself.

Those who know something of Elizabeth Whittier
will thank me for closing these final and supplement
ary notes with a rarely drawn portrait from the pen
of the most accomplished and scholarly of living
American essayists.1

" Elizabeth Whittier," he says, " was one of the
rarest of women, her brother's complement; possess
ing all the readiness of speech and facility of inter
course which he wanted; taking easily, in his pres
ence, the lead in conversation which the poet so
gladly abandoned to her, while he sat rubbing his

1 Thomas Wentworth Higginson, in New York "Evening Post,"
September 7, 1892. Higginson was the friend of Whittier because
he knew him, but the bitter and malignant enemy of Walt Whitman
(a greater than Whittier) because he did not know him. Such is
the limitation of the human mind!

WHITTIER AT HOME.

hands and laughing at her daring sallies. She was
as unlike him in person as in mind: for his dignified
erectness, even amounting to stiffness, she had end
less motion and vivacity; for his regular and hand
some features she had a long Jewish nose, so full of
expression that it seemed to enhance instead of injure
the effect of the large and liquid eyes that glowed
with merriment and sympathy behind it. There was
something bird-like in Elizabeth Whittier's look and
in the movements of her head; her quick thoughts
came like javelins; a saucy triumph gleamed in the
great eyes; the head moved a little from side to side
as with the quiver of a weapon; and, lo! you were
transfixed. Her poems, tragic, sombre, imaginative,
give no impression of this side of her nature; but it
was as if long generations of parents who had * held
the Quaker role' had broken into reactionary sun
shine and rollicking gayety in her. Her wit had
play upon the grave Friends themselves, as they
gathered at the time of 'Quarterly Meetings ' under
the roof which latterly held all of Quakerism that was
left in Amesbury; she wound them round her finger
in spite of themselves, and did not hesitate to dis
cipline the most venerable Friend on the high seats
until she had compelled him to rise and close the
meeting by shaking hands in good seasor, lest the
dinner should be overdone. She was a woman never
to be forgotten; and no one can truly estimate the
long celibate life of the poet without bearing in mind
that he had for many years at his own fireside the
concentrated wit and sympathy of all womanhood in
this one sister."

CHAPTER IV.

FRIENDSHIPS AND OPINIONS.

To speak of all of Mr. Whittier's friends would re
quire an enumeration of several thousand names ;
for every one who has ever known him loves him.
Among the eminent persons with whom he has been
on terms of intimate association are Dr. Samuel G.
Howe, Edwin P. Whipple, George L. Stearns, Samuel
Sewall, Theodore D. Weld, James T. Fields and Mrs.
Annie Fields, Bayard Taylor, N. P. Rogers, Nathaniel
Hawthorne, Longfellow, Emerson, Holmes, and
Lowell ; Mary Howitt, Harriet Prescott Spofford,
Gail Hamilton, Celia Thaxter, Elizabeth Stuart
Phelps, Charles Sumner, John Bright, and Dom
Pedro, the late Emperor of Brazil.

The occurrence of poets' names in this list would
seem to falsify Landor's affirmation, that poets hate
poets the world over.

Whittier admired Sumner for his noble advocacy
of peace doctrines, in "The True Grandeur of Nations"
and other orations, and for his magnanimous attitude
toward the South after the close of the Civil War.

Longfellow's Journals record frequent visits paid
by him to Whittier and by Whittier to him. Not a
great while before Longfellow died he wrote to his
friend to come and see him. Mr. Whittier was not
able to go at once ; and, when he did at last come, it
200

FRIENDSHIPS AND OPINIONS. 2OI

was too late : Longfellow was then too ill to see any
one, and died shortly afterward.

Emerson, too, was a frequent visitor at Amesbury.
Elizabeth Whittier used to say that she liked him
better than any man who visited them, because he
never talked over her head. And her brother has
said, " Emerson was a delightful companion, and was
often here. No matter who remained, when he left
there was a void." 1

Of the genial relation existing between Holmes and
Whittier the following from a letter of the Amesbury
poet to Dr. Holmes on occasion of one of Dr.
Holmes's birthday celebrations is ample witness :
" My father," says he, " used to tell of a poor inno
cent in his neighborhood who, whenever he met him,
would fall to laughing, crying, and dancing: ' I can't
help it, I can't help it; I 'm so glad you and I are alive.'
And I, like the poor fellow, can't help telling thee
that I am glad thee and I are alive ; glad that thy
hand has lost nothing of its cunning and thy pen is
still busy ; and I say to thee, in the words of Solomon
of old, * Rejoice, O young man, in thy youth, and let
thy heart cheer thee in the days of thy youth.' But
do n't exult over thy seniors who have not found the
elixir of life and are growing old and past their use
fulness. I have just got back from the hills and am
tired, and a pile of unanswered letters are before me
this morning ; so I can only say, God bless thee."

The charmed circle must be drawn to include
James Russell Lowell, also, who on occasion of the

1 Conversation with Frank A. Burr, Boston " Herald," Nov. 18,
1883.

202 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

unveiling of a life-size portrait of Whittier by Edgar
Parker in the Friends' School in Providence, in 1884,
wrote a prose greeting, accompanied by these poetical
lines: '—

" New England's poet, rich in love as years,
Her hills and valleys praise thee, and her brooks
Dance to thy song : to her grave sylvan nooks
Thy feet allure us, which the wood-thrush hears
As maids their lovers, and no treason fears.
Through thee her Merrimacks and Agiochooks,
And many a name uncouth, win loving looks,
• Sweetly familiar to both Englands' ears.
Peaceful by birthright as a virgin lake,
The lily's anchorage, which no eyes behold
Save those of stars, yet, for thy brother's sake,
That lay in bonds, thou blew'st a blast as bold
As that wherewith the heart of Roland brake,
Far heard through Pyrenean valleys cold."

To a young lady who visited him in 1887 Whittier
said : " I remember the first time that I saw Haw
thorne. I went to make him a visit, and Mrs.
Hawthorne called him in to see me. He came into
the room with a look on his face that made me feel
as though he had been sitting writing for a long time
in a dark place." Whittier's face lighted up as he
added, in homely, telling phrase, " He looked as
though he had just come up from down cellar."
Elsewhere alluding to this same call, apparently,
Whittier says that Hawthorne remarked of the plot of
a book he was writing, " It darkens damnably."

To Harriet Prescott Spofford, who is a not very
distant neighbor of Whittier's, in her home, —

1 As published in Boston " Advertiser," Oct. 25, '84.

FRIENDSHIPS AND OPINIONS. 203

" Set like an eagle's nest
Among Deer Island's immemorial pines,
Crowning the crag on which the sunset breaks
Its last red arrow," —

to this dear friend Whittier dedicates his " Bay of
Seven Islands."

For the Quaker writer Mary Howitt Mr. Whittier
had a hearty regard. Her Autobiography records
the reception from him, in 1874, through Mrs. A. D.
T. Whitney, of verbal greetings and a letter of friend
ship. To William Howitt, author of the fine
Whittieresque lyric of freedom, —

" The land for me, the land for me,
Where every living soul is free," —

our poet does not seem to have been so much at
tracted. Both the Howitts were ardent in the anti-
slavery cause, and we are told of Mary's good old
mother knitting " a quantity of nice things for the
anti-slavery bazaar in Boston." Whittier, no doubt,
would say " Amen " to this effusion of Kit North's
shepherd, in the " Noctes " : " The twa married
Hooitts I love just excessively, sir. What they write
canna fail o' bein' poetry, even the most middlin' o' 't.
For it 's aye wi' them the ebullition o' their ain feel
ing and their ain fancy ; and, whenever that 's the
case, a bonny word or twa will drap itsel' intil ilka
stanzy, and a sweet stanzy or twa intil ilka pome,
and sae they touch, and sae they sune win a body's
heart."

John Bright, a Quaker, was naturally an admirer of
the Quaker poet of America. Writing in 1884, he

204 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

said : " In the poem of ' Snovv-Bound ' there are lines
on the death of the poet's sister which have nothing
superior to them in beauty and pathos in our lan
guage. I have read them often, with always increas
ing admiration. I have suffered from the loss of
those near and dear to me, and I can apply the lines
to my own case and feel as if they were written for
me. The ' Eternal Goodness ' is another poem which
is worth a crowd of sermons which are spoken from
the pulpits of our sects and churches, and which I do
not wish to undervalue."

Mr. Bright told James Grant Wilson that he val
ued Whittier's poems more than those of any other
poet of the present century. When Garrison and
John Bright were one sunny afternoon standing in
the Library of the House of Parliament conversing,
and watching the busy scene on the Thames, Mr.
Bright repeated " with exquisite feeling " Whittier's
apostrophe to his sister Elizabeth above mentioned.1

I have mentioned Dom Pedro's love of Whittier.
He had translated some of his poems into Portuguese,
and, when he was in America in 1876, he paid Mr.
Whittier a visit of affection. Later, on hearing that
slavery was at last abolished in Brazil, Mr. Whittier
cabled these words to the Emperor, who was then
lying ill at Milan : " With thanks to God, who has
blessed your generous efforts, I congratulate you on
the peaceful abolition of slavery in Brazil."

Bayard Taylor, who was a Quaker by descent, on
his father's side, was a welcome guest in Amesbury.
There was in Bayard Taylor's hearty, robust phy-

1 Life of Garrison, iv. 279,

FRIENDSHIPS AND OPINIONS. 205

sique just that complement of Whittier's invalid,
feminine nature needed by the latter in a friend.
Taylor's letters seem to me the most vivacious and
interesting in our published literature, and only to be
matched for verve and snap (so far as my epistolary
experience enables me to judge) by those of his
friend E. C. Stedman or by William Douglas O'Con
nor of Washington. Taylor is the traveler de
scribed in the " Tent on the Beach " (" one whose
Arab face was tanned by tropic sun," etc.).

Writing in July, 1850, Mr. Taylor says : " Friday
morning, early, Lowell and I started for Amesbury,
which we reached in a terrible northeaster. What a
capital time we had with Whittier, in his nook of a
study, with the rain pouring on the roof and the wind
howling at the door ! " ' On the day of the publica
tion of Taylor's " Faust," Mr. and Mrs. James T.
Fields gave a dinner in the translator's honor. Whit-
tier wrote to Mr. Fields : " I take up the lamentation
of Falstaff : 'There are but few of us good fellows
left, and one of them is not fat, but lean, and grows
old.' It would be pleasant to sit down with thy
special guest, my dear friend Taylor, and with others
whose poetical shoestrings I hold myself quite un
worthy to untie, — the wisest of philosophers and
most genial of men from Concord ; the architect of
the only noteworthy * Cathedral' in the new world ;
and his neighbor, the far-traveled explorer of Purga
tory and Hell, and the scarcely less dreary Paradise
of the great Italian dreamer." The last parting of
these two friends, Whittier and Taylor, took place

1 Life and Letters of Bayard Taylor, i. 176.

206 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

under the elms of Boston Common, after a visit they
had just been making at the house of Richard H.
Dana.

Whittier has a general poem on Taylor : —

" 'And where now, Bayard, will thy footsteps tend ? '
My sister asked our guest one winter's day.
Smiling, he answered in the Friends' sweet way
Common to both : ' Wherever thou shalt send !
What wouldst thou have me see for thee ? ' She laughed,
Her dark eyes dancing in the wood-fire's glow :
' Loffoden isles, the Kilpis, and the low,
Unsetting sun on Finmark's fishing-craft.'
' All these and more I soon shall see for thee ! '
He answered, cheerily ; and he kept his pledge."

One of Mr. Whittier's earliest friendships was that
between himself and Edwin P. Whipple. He wrote
in 1886 of Whipple : " I cannot now dwell upon his
authorship while thinking of him as the beloved mem
ber of a literary circle now, alas ! sadly broken. I recall
the wise, genial companion and faithful friend of
nearly half a century, the memory of whose words
and acts of kindness moistens my eyes as I write."
And again, in another place : " To him more than to
any other person I was indebted for public recogni
tion as one worthy of a place in American literature,
at a time when it required a great deal of courage
to urge such a claim for a proscribed Abolitionist.
Although younger than I, he had gained the reputa
tion of a brilliant essayist, and was regarded as the
highest American authority in criticism." Mr. Whit-
tier refers to the critical review written by Whipple in
1848 or earlier. Whipple, in this paper, quotes the
old saying of John Dennis, of Queen Anne's time,

FRIENDSHIPS AND OPINIONS. 2O ;

that genius is " a furious joy and pride of soul on the
conception of an extraordinary hint," and keenly
notes that Whittier has this "furious joy and pride of
soul " even when the hints are not extraordinary. He
observes that his vehement sensibility does not allow
his inventive faculties fully to complete what they
have begun. " Whittier has the soul of a great poet,
and we should not be surprised if he attained the
hight of excellence in his art." 1

We have seen how close was the friendship between
William Lloyd Garrison and Greenleaf Whittier.
Mr. Garrison had an extremely amiable, cheerful
nature, and was domestic in his tastes. The same is
true of Whittier. In their younger years, especially,
was the bond that knit them together strong. In the
work of reform they were at that time like two heads
under one hat. For seven years at least, they toiled
shoulder to shoulder in the anti-slavery harness.
Garrison was often at Whittier's home, and Whittier
more than once shared the bowl of bread and milk
of the editor of the " Liberator," in the dingy little
printing-room in Boston. They ate at the same table
when both were young men editing Boston papers ;
together they drafted the Magna Charta of the
nation's anti-slavery society, worked often in the
same conventions, wrote poems in each other's praise,
and together shared the plaudits of the world on the
overthrow of slavery.

Whittier's many letters to Lydia Maria Child, some
of which have been published, sufficiently indicate
the sympathy that bound these two together. Dear

1 Whipple's Essays, i.

208 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

Mrs. Child, with her beautiful sweet face under that
funny, old-fashioned bonnet that made the children
snicker, — what a pleasant life she led with her brave,
though semi-invalid husband ! — they two alone in
Wayland in their little home on the quiet by-road
overlooking broad green meadows.

James T. Fields was the constitutional complement
of Whittier, had the strong, healthy, rich nature in
which such temperaments as Whittier's love to bask.
Fields, with his full, jet-black beard, and with
chest thrown out, reciting " Douglas, Douglas, tender
and true ! " is a memory in my mind only matched
by the equally powerful recital of Byron's " Senna
cherib " by Bayard Taylor. One can imagine how
Fields and Taylor must have rivaled Demosthenes
in spouting poetry along the Salisbury sands in that
episode of the Tent on the Beach. In the poem,
Fields is —

" A lettered magnate, lording o'er

An ever-widening realm of books.
In him brain-currents, near and far,
Converged as in a Leyden jar ;
The old, dead authors thronged him round about,
And Elzevir's gray ghosts from leathern graves looked out.

" Pleasant it was to roam about
The lettered world as he had done,
And see the lords of song without
Their singing-robes and garlands on."

It seems a regrettable thing that Mr. Whittier
should have felt impelled to destroy a large mass of
his correspondence with friends. He might have
appointed a literary executor in whose judgment he

FRIENDSHIPS AND OPINIONS. 209

had perfect confidence. No literature is so valuable
as contemporary memoirs and letters. There is such
a thing as being morbidly sensitive as to the privacy
of a letter. Ruskin has said that he never wrote a
Better in his life that all the world are not welcome
to read if they will. Mr. Whittier's act and the
motives that led to it are spoken of by him in the
following note published in the " Brooklyn Magazine "
in the spring of 1886: —

" The report concerning the burning of my letters
is only true so far as this: Some years ago I destroyed
a large collection of letters I had received, not from
any regard to my own reputation, but from the fear
that to leave them liable to publicity might be in
jurious or unpleasant to the writers or their, friends.
They covered much of the anti-slavery period and the
War of the Rebellion, and many of them I knew were
strictly private and confidential. I was not able at
the time to look over the mass, and thought it
safest to make a bonfire of all. I have always
regarded a private and confidential letter as sacred,
and its publicity in any shape a shameful breach of
trust, unless authorized by its writer. I only wish
my own letters to thousands of correspondents may
be as carefully disposed of."

Undoubtedly the distinguished friends, from the
"world's people," who have maintained constant
intimacy with Whittier have been of great benefit to
him in getting him partially out of the rut of nar
row sectarianism. Whittier is not only an Orthodox
Quaker by birth, but from heart-felt conviction.
He is a constant attendant at Quaker meetings,
14

2IO JOHN G. WHITTIER.

submits to the authority of the Quaker discipline,
and for Sunday wear has an Orthodox Quaker coat
made in Philadelphia. His Westminster Abbey is a
little white wooden box of a church, in the fields,
capable of holding forty persons. In winter the
congregation sometimes dwindles to seven or three
members. His soul here communes with God more
closely, he finds, than when distracted by the fuss
and talk and music of the great churches, or even
by the shows of nature. This is all well, and even
beautiful. For the Quaker doctrine of the Inner
Light there is a sound psychological basis. Philo
sophical and religious thinkers of all times have
found silence indispensable to the mind's best work
ing. But it is the thousand and one narrowing,
unmanly, old-woman rules and discipline of the
Quakers that Whittier needed friends to free him
from. And, as it is, he has never succeeded in per
manently throwing off the dead weight he came into
life handicapped with. Indeed, when you consider
Quakerism on its weak side, — its phlegmatic utilita
rianism, its icy formalism, selfishness, reprobation of
music, poetry, painting, the theatre, the dance, hunt
ing, fine manners, rich dress, nearly all that makes
life noble and distinguished, — you wonder that
Whittier ever produced any great poetry at all.
Fiery lyrics by a Quaker are like passion flowers in
Nova Zembla ; 't is a miracle that such bitter cold
should yield such tropic blooms. It is largely due
to Quakerism that Philadelphia has never produced
a genius. Of Mr. Whittier we must affirm that the very
depth and intensity of his religious nature have been
an injury to his work as an artist. Always in pro-

FRIENDSHIPS AND OPINIONS. 211

portion to the strength and tenderness of the religious
feeling of the artist is the weakness of the art. Great
art is a depicting of man's noble deeds and emotions;
but the artist must himself have passed through the
stage of distracting emotion when he gives his
ideas final shape. Religious emotion is especially
apt to becloud and agitate the mind, unhinges it,
blurs the impressions (as of a sensitized chemical
plate) that fall upon it. While many of Mr. Whit-
tier's religious hymns are of exquisite beauty, and
are found in large numbers in the hymn-books, it
is still true that the vast mass of his verse is in
jured by weak religious didacticism. " Prythee,
Senor Curedo, let God's finger alone. Very worthy
men are apt to snatch at it upon too light occa
sions: they would stop their tobacco-pipes with it."

It is only the Quakeristic atmosphere in which he
has grown up, the unconscious influences of his
secluded life, that have crippled his genius. His
creed is a broad one; his religious sympathy, or toler
ance, is as wide as Christianity; his gonfalon has
always fluttered in the van of all progressive and
liberal movements. To the Principal of the Friends'
School in Providence he wrote in 1884: "Though I
am a Quaker by birthright and sincere convictions,
I am no sectarian in the strict sense of the term. My
sympathies are with the Broad Church of Humanity."
Elsewhere he has said, " I have never felt like quar
reling with Orthodox or Unitarians who were willing
to pull with me, side by side, at the rope of Reform."
In the " Liberator" of Sept. 22, 1837, he wrote: "In
the anti-slavery cause I have cheerfully held counsel
with Catholic and Protestant, Unitarian and Trini-

212 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

tarian, Jew and Christian; and have done so, without,
on the one hand, sacrificing my own principles, and,
on the other, without doing violence to the feel
ings and consciences of others. I have, it is true,
heard and read many things at lectures and conven
tions, and in anti-slavery publications, which, as a
member of the Society of Friends, I could not approve
of, and which have been as unwelcome to me as any
thing in the ' Liberator ' can possibly have been to
the signers of the Protest.1 But I have not felt free
to denounce my friends of other denominations, and
withdraw from them, on that account.

In 1889 he said in the " Jewish Messenger," "I
do n't know what it is to be a Jew, but I know what
it is to be a Christian, who has no quarrel with others
about their creed, and can love, respect, and honor a
Jew who honestly believes in the faith of his fathers,
and who obeys the two great commandments ' Love
to God and Love to Man.' "

Mr. Whittier's confession of faith is perhaps most
fully set down in two public letters of his published
in 1870.' Here are a few key sentences which breathe
a pretty liberal spirit: —

" A very large proportion of my dearest personal
friends are outside of our communion; and I have
learned with John Woolman to find ' no narrowness
respecting sects and opinions.' But, after a kindly
and candid survey of them all, I turn to my own
Society, thankful to the Divine Providence which

1 Reference is had to a disagreement in the ranks of the Aboli
tionists at the time of a certain " Clerical Appeal."
9 Included in his prose works, edition 1889.

FRIENDSHIPS AND OPINIONS. 213

placed me where I am; and with an unshaken faith
in the one distinctive doctrine of Quakerism, — the
Light within, the immanence of the Divine Spirit in
Christianity. ... I am not blind to the short
comings of Friends. I know how much we have lost
by narrowness and coldness and inactivity, the over
estimate of external observances, the neglect of our
own proper work while acting as a conscience-keeper
for others." The remedy is " not in setting the letter
above the spirit; not in substituting type and sym
bol, and Oriental figure and hyperbole, for the simple
truths they were intended to represent; not in schools
of theology; not in much speaking and noise and
vehemence; nor in vain attempts to make the 'plain
language ' of Quakerism utter the Shibboleth of
man-made creeds: but in heeding more closely the
Inward Guide and Teacher ; in faith in Christ, not
merely in His historical manifestation of the Divine
Love to humanity, but in His living presence in the
hearts open to receive Him; in love for Him mani
fested in denial of self, in charity and love to our
neighbor. . . .

" Quakerism, in the light of its great original
truth, is ' exceedingly broad.' As interpreted by
Penn and Barclay, it is the most liberal and catholic
of faiths. . . .

" They fail to read clearly the signs of the times
who do not see that the hour is coming when, under
the searching eye of philosophy and the terrible
analysis of science, the letter and the outward evi
dence will not altogether avail us; when the surest de
pendence must be upon the Light of Christ within."

One cannot but admire in Whittier his stanch loy-

214 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

alty to the faith of his fathers, in respect of confess
ing it before men. He has never been ashamed of
his religion. His attitude recalls an anecdote told of
Thomas Ellwood. As he was one day coming out of
meeting, among a hostile crowd, some one called out,
"Do n't stone that man, he is not a Quaker, see his
fur cap!" Ellwood instantly snatched his cap from
his head and dashed it to the ground, saying, "I am
a Quaker!"

A writer in the Chicago " Inter-Ocean " in the
autumn of 1880 reports Whittier as having said in
conversation that he believed in an absolute religion
above all written revelations : all revelations presup
pose and appeal to it. " There is an afr^]^ ha sis
of truth in-a-lt- minds, which is the same ; and in all
difficulties growing out of the relations of old relig
ious ideas to new facts we shall have enough of
absolute truth to carry us through. . . . Authority
as, a ground and element of religion must whoTljTdis-
appear . . . The claims for Christ must be based
on the perfect character of His life and teachings, and
not on His authority." For a right nurture of the
religious nature the sensibilities must be brought
more into cultivation and active influence. " After
early childhood, the cultivation of the sensibilities
begins to give place to intellectual training, and soon
ceases entirely, and the young mind is left to train
its own sensibilities. It is also taught to smother
and conceal the impressions and sensibilities, and
eventually it hardens into a spiritual indifference."

On the doctrine of Predestination and Endless
Punishment he has written as follows to the Univer-
salists : " I recognize the importance of the revolt of

iiUENDSHIPS AND OPINIONS. 215

your religious society from the awful dogma of pre
destined happiness for the few and damnation for the
many, though in the outset that revolt brought with
it something of the old fatalistic belief in the arbi
trary will and power of the Almighty. Assuming
that a favored few can be saved by a divine decree
irrespective of any merit on their part, it was logical
at least to suppose that all might be saved in the
same way. If I mistake not, this view has been
greatly modified by the consideration that the
natural circumstances of death cannot make any
real change of character ; that no one can be com
pelled to be good or evil; that freedom of choice be
longs to both worlds, and that sin is, by its very
nature, inseparable from suffering. I am not accus
tomed to attach very great importance to speculative
opinions, and am not disposed to quarrel with any
creed which avoids the danger, on the one hand, of
attributing implacable vengeance and cruelty to the
heavenly Father, and on the other of underrating the
'exceeding sinfulness of sin' and its baleful conse
quences. Slowly but surely the dreadful burden of
the old belief in the predetermined eternity of evil is
being lifted from the heart of humanity, and the
goodness of God, which leadeth to repentance, is tak
ing the place of the infinite scorn which made love
well-nigh impossible."1

In his poem "The Minister's Daughter " will be
found a strain of thought similar to this.

A contributor to the Syracuse "Journal" — in the
summer of '82 — writes that in a conversation with

1 The Critic, June 5, '86.

2l6 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

Whittier the talk drifted into the topic of death and
the nearness or distance of the departed to different
individuals.

" ' I have never felt the influence you describe,'
said the poet; 'no one who has passed away seems
near to me now. Life is such a mystery that I do
not ask to penetrate the secrets of eternity; but I can
imagine that you and others are conscious of the
unseen presence of those whom you have loved and
lost.'

" ' And who are eternally happy,' I added.

"' Well, I am not certain about that,' he continued,
with an expression of abstraction. ' I believe that
we may have troubles there, as well as here ; if not,
the contrast would not be so sweet. The difference
will be that we shall be better enabled to bear them.
Heaven is a place of harmony. Everything will be
harmonized there.'

"'Then you do not admire a state of complete
bliss ? '

"' No, why should I, any more than I like clams at
high tide,' 1 and, after joining me in a moment of
merriment, he turned suddenly and said, —

" ' When are you the happiest ? '

" * You will laugh, Mr. Whittier, but it is when I
hear the first note of a robin in the early spring
time.'

" * No, I shall not laugh; for I understand that
pleasure, too.'

1 Those who have never lived by the sea may need to be told
that clams are only obtainable when the water has receded, at low
tide.

FRIENDSHIPS AND OPINIONS. 2 17

" Then I described the meadows of Central Park,
which he said was all new to him, and he had not
supposed any one would go there to hear a robin's
song. A merry twinkle came in his eyes as he
added, — * I like Boston Common because they hung
some Quakers there once upon a time.' "

Here are some cheerful thoughts of Whittier's
from a talk on Communism and the Shakers : 1 —

" You young men will have your trials, too," he
said, " and your conflicts will be with subtler diffi
culties than ours."

" Is Professor Goldwin Smith's * Moral Interreg
num ' probable?" asked his questioner.

" I think there is some prospect of it," said Whit-
tier. " The breaking of old forms has begun. I have
no fears for the result." The communism of the
French Revolution is impossible with us.

" The most successful form of communism," said
he, humorously, u is the Shaker Community. They
have broken down the family, and have common
property; but they also have industry, frugality,
purity, and temperance. They have the spirit of
thrift and cleanliness. But even in this form com
munism is not a good thing. It would extinguish
the race in time.

" The Shakers have always been very careful about
running after strange notions; but they publish a
paper now called ' The Shaker Manifesto,' — a rather
smart title, — in which they give their views of things in

1 From the New York " Tribune," Oct. 4, 1880 (the Inter-
Ocean " conversation above referred to).

2l8 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

general. They send it to me, and I take some interest
in looking at it, and seeing what they are thinking
about. They have a column of poetry in it that is
interesting reading. They have a machine for mak
ing poetry as well as everything else; and they com
pose tunes of their own for these songs. I do not
think the world will steal their music. It is the most
singular music I have ever heard."

Quakerism, in virtue of its doctrine of Inward
Illumination, is the sworn foe of caste and class
privilege. Every man and woman may receive the
honor of inspiration from above. Hence perfect
equality among classes of men, and — the unavoidable
corollary — the co-equality of the sexes. Whittier
favored " woman's rights " from the start, though
during the anti-slavery struggle he deemed it unwise
to keep introducing the subject into the meetings of
the Abolitionists. It was irrelevant, and hurt the
cause. " Let other reforms stand on their own in
trinsic merit," he said. " The Abolition car moves
heavily enough already, without dragging after it
everything which our thousand and one reformers
may choose to hitch to it." l In 1880 his words are
reported as follows: 2 —

u Woman suffrage I regard as an inevitable thing,
and a good thing. Women in public life will bring
it up more than it will bring them down. There will
be considerable floundering about before society will
be completely adapted to the change; but, after it
shall be fairly accomplished and in working order,

1 Liberator, Oct. 27, '37.

* New York Tribune, Oct. 4, 1880.

FRIENDSHIPS AND OPINIONS. 219

the work of society will go on without any deteriora
tion, and with a gain of purity in motives and unself
ishness of law-makers and administrators. I fear its
effects in large cities, where bad women will come
forward. Women are so intense that bad women will
be worse in public life than bad men. But the dif
ficulty is in the nature of the city. Yet I do not be
lieve that woman's work will be done mainly by
voting. Disinterested lives are the things needed in
society, and women will do most in showing the
practicability and value of such lives in all forms of
work."

Similarly he speaks in a published letter: J —
" I frankly confess that I am not able to foresee all
the consequences of the great social and political
change proposed. But of this I am at least sure: it is
always safe to do right, and the truest expediency is
simple justice. . . . I have no fear that man will be
less manly or woman less womanly when they meet on
terms of equality before the law. On the other hand,
I do not see that the exercise of the ballot by woman
will prove a remedy for all the evils of which she
justly complains. It is her right as truly as mine;
and, when she asks for it, it is something less than
manhood to withhold it. But unsupported by a
more practical education, higher aims, and a deeper
sense of the responsibilities of life and duty, it is not
likely to prove a blessing in her hands any more than
in man's."

1 Prose Works (edition 1889), iii. 228.

CHAPTER V.

"TELLING THE BEES," AND OTHER BALLADS.

" 1 knew a very wise man that believed that if a man were per
mitted to make all the ballads, he need not care who should make the
laws, of a nation" — FLETCHER OF SALTOUN.

INASMUCH as I have elsewhere published a critical
estimate of Mr. Whittier's poems, pointing out the
gradual growth of his art away from homiletical, or
didactic, work until it culminated in the beautiful
ballads of his riper years, I do not purpose to go over
that ground again in this volume, but will content
myself with quoting (by the tacit permission of its
writer) the following weighty and condensed bit of
criticism from an eminent fellow-poet and contem
porary of Mr. Whittier, and will then pass on to
annotate and illustrate some of his most fascinating
stories in verse: " Whittier's poetry stands for moral
ity (not its ensemble, or in any true philosophic or
Hegelian sense, but) as filter'd through the positive
Puritanical and Quaker filters; is very valuable as a
genuine utterance; with many capital local and Yan
kee and genre bits — all unmistakably hued with
zealous partisan anti-slavery coloring. Then thegenre
bits are all precious; all help. Whittier is rather a
grand figure — pretty lean and ascetic — no Greek —
also not composite and universal enough (does n't

220

"TELLING THE BEES," AND OTHER BALLADS. 221

wish to be, does n't try to be) for ideal American
ism."1

If the Essex poet is not composite and universal, he
is at least very near the heart of the people, and never
more so than in. his best ballads, — such as " Telling
the Bees," " Maud Muller," " Barbara Frietchie,"
'• Skipper Ireson," " The Witch's Daughter," and
"The Witch of Wenham." These musical arrows,
shot as with the miraculous bow of Rama, are un
doubtedly feathered for a far flight into the future.
And a chief reason for their perpetuity lies in the
fact that they are free from the disfigurement (from
an artistic point of view) of so many of Whittier's de
scriptive pieces; namely, the moral at the end. A
direct homiletical application of a story, instead of
pointing it, weakens its point: it is the button on the
sword. A poem with a moral reminds one of Ed
ward Lear's " scroobious snake, who always wore a
hat on his head for fear he should bite anybody."

The determination of Whittier upon the moral is
complete and radical. The roots, trunk, branches,
and blossoms of his life are steeped in the sense of
duty. The obligation to high daring and heroic do-
ing rests upon his soul like a solemn sanction. He
has received a commission from on high. Will the
Commander-in-chief approve of his sitting down to
write pretty ballads in the heat and burden of the
day? he keeps anxiously asking himself. To an

1 The poet of Camden, letter to the author, Oct. 10, '8g. It is a
significant and historically fitting circumstance that the three chief
democrats of the New World — Whitman, Lincoln, and Whittier
— should all be, remotely or immediately, of Quaker stock.

222 JOHN G. WHITTIER,

edition of his poems published in 1849 he prefixes
these lines of Coleridge: —

" Was it right,

While my unnumbered brethren toiled and bled,
That I should dream away th' intrusted hours
On rose-leaf beds, pampering the coward heart
With feelings all too delicate for use ? "

In the dedication of one of his prose works to his
sister Elizabeth he is still seen to be debating the
question in his mind, but leans to the opinion that
it is all right : —

" And knowing how my life hath been
A weary work of tongue and pen,
A long, harsh strife with strong-willed men,

Thou wilt not chide my turning
To con, at times, an idle rhyme,
To pluck a flower from childhood's clime,
Or listen, at Life's noon-day chime,
For the sweet bells of Morning ! "

Had he consulted his choice, he would not have entered
into the political field at all, but would have loved all
his life to drift idly up and down among the drowsy
Venetian canals of legendary lore. As he says at the
close of " The Panorama ": —

" Oh, not of choice, for themes of public wrong
I leave the green and pleasant paths of song.

* *****

More dear to me some song of private worth, —
Some homely idyl of my native North."

The quaint and touching European custom, de-

" TELLING THE BEES," AND OTHER BALLADS. 223

scribed in " Telling the Bees," of informing the occu
pants of the hives of a death in the family, and drap
ing the hives with crape in order that the swarms may
not take their departure, has been transplanted to our
country, and is still observed by isolated individuals
here and there among the country folk, especially in
New York State. It is a pretty idea, and a very
natural one, that those marvelous little waxen-thighed
flower-riflers, those winged geometers and potters
whose whirling wheel turns out such cunning vases
of scented sweets, should have the power of compre
hending all that men do and say. It is among the
peasantry of Europe, of course, that the idea is most
prevalent. Some of them think that the bees' sense
of smell, which is known to be very acute, is offended
by the presence of a dead body. At any rate, it is
imperative to inform them of the death and invite
them to the funeral. Some drape the hives with
shreds of black, and some do not ; some also place
on the alighting-boards of the hives fragments of the
funeral cake or bread, soaked in beer, wine, or honey.
Bees also expect to be invited to a wedding, and to
have their hives decorated with wedding favors. In
Buckinghamshire, England, on the occasion of a
death, the nurse of the family, or a servant, goes to
all the beehives in the garden and taps gently three
times, saying each time in a low voice, " Little brownie,
little brownie, your master's dead," whereupon the
bees begin to hum, showing that they understand
and are willing to remain. In Derbyshire and Wilts
the custom is a common one. Three taps are made
on the hive with the house-key, and the informant
says, " Bees, bees, your master [or mistress] is dead,

224 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

and you must work for ," naming the heir or

successor. A piece of black crape is then fastened to
the hive. An old farmer's wife in Cheshire, England,
had from fifteen to twenty hives of bees.

" Well," said a friend one day to her, " how have
the bees done this year?"

" Ah! " she replied, " they are all gone. When our
Harriet lost her second child, a many of them died.
You see they were under the window where it lay;
and then when Will died, last spring, the rest all
died, too. I always say that bees are very curious
things."

In some parts of France, on the day of Purification
women read the gospel to the bees, and it is believed
that, if children or grown people swear within ear
shot of them, they will swarm out and attack them.
The belief is alluded to by Beranger in one of his
chansons. In Westphalia, when the death of the mas
ter of the household occurs, the servant puts on a
Bienenhelm, or bee-bonnet, and, going out into the
garden to the hives, stoops down and says in a low
voice, "The mistress sends her best compliments, and
the master is dead." In some parts of Germany they
say, —

" Bienchen, unser Herr ist todt,
Verlass mich nicht in meiner Noth."

"Little bee, our master is dead. Forsake me not in
my distress."1

1 See Farrer's " Primitive Manners and Customs," p. 281; Eng
lish "Notes and Queries" (consult the indexes); "American
Notes and Queries," i. 312, and ii. 328, 374; " Scribner's Month
ly," May, 1879 (article by Burroughs); "Open Court," Sept. 12,
1889 (article by L. J. Vance); and Brand's " Popular Antiquities."

" TELLING THE BEES," AND OTHER BALLADS. 225

In regard to the ballad " Maud Muller," Mr. Whit-
tier tells us that the name Muller he took from the
descendants of a Hessian deserter in the Revolution
ary War. " The poem," he says, " has no real foun
dation in fact, though a hint of it may have been
found in recalling an incident, trivial in itself, of a
journey on the picturesque Maine seaboard with my
sister some years before it was written. We had
stopped to rest our tired horse under the shade of an
apple-tree, and refresh Kim with water from a little
brook which rippled through the stone wall across
the road. A very beautiful young girl in scantiest
summer attire was at work in the hay-field, and, as
we talked with her, we noticed that she strove to
hide her bare feet by raking hay over them, blush
ing as she did so through the tan of her cheek and
neck."1 "Maud Muller" was first published in
the " National Era," December, 1854. It is a poem
sweeter and purer in sentiment than Browning's
"Statue and the Bust"; the root-idea of this poem
also is embodied in the phrase, " It might have been."
The name, being German, should have been written
Muller. The English author Walter Hamilton says
in volume five of his "Parodies" that Mr. Whittier
pronounces it as if written Miiller. Mr. Hamilton
adds a remark of the poet: "If I had had any idea
that the plaguey thing would have been so liked, I
would have taken more pains with it."

The story of Skipper Ireson a was first told to

1 Note to the library edition of 1888 of Whittier's poems.

2 The sources of information for this ballad are as follows: His
tory of Marblehead, by Roads, Jr., p. 233; article by John Chad-

15

226 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

Whittier by a schoolmate, a young girl from Marble-
head, when he was attending the Academy in Haver-
hill. He says he remembers thinking it over while
walking to and fro under Hugh Tallant's sycamores,
which formed a leafy archway beside the river.
Thirty years later he wrote and published the ballad.
For doing so, he has excited the unappeasable wrath
of the good Marbleheaders, especially the women,
who in reality had nothing to do with the " torring"
of the skipper, and do not like their portrait as
sketched by the balladist. As for the " men-folks,"
they have been laboring for years to convince the
world that it was n't Skipper Ireson who was to
blame for leaving the shipwrecked sailors to perish:
it was his men. But, as these were also Marbleheaders,
one cannot see how the reputation of the town would
be in any way bettered by shifting the odium onto
the shoulders of Ireson's crew.

The refrain of " Skipper Ireson " was originally
written without the use of the queer local pronuncia
tion, but was afterwards changed to its present form
at the suggestion of Mr. Francis H. Underwood, then
editor of the " Atlantic Monthly," in which the poem
first appeared. The event chronicled in the ballad took
place in 1807 ; and, when Mr. Whittier took up the
story for literary purposes, it had been talked about
and sung about in Marblehead for a generation, and

wick in " Harper's Monthly," July, 1874, and one by George M.
White in the same for February, 1883; Underwood's " Whittier,"
p. 219; Boston " Evening Transcript," Sept. 23 and Oct. 3, 1889;
and a note by Mr. Whittier in the library edition (1888) of his
poems. The poem first appeared anonymously in the "Atlantic
Monthly " in 1857.

"TELLING THE BEES," AND OTHER BALLADS. 227

was regarded by him as a legend. The original
doggerel, as sung by the boys of Marblehead, is said
to have run in this wise : —

" Old Flud Oirson, for his horrd hort,
Was torred and feathered and corried in a cort ;
He left foive men upon a wrack,
And was torred and feathered all over his back."

By 1837 this had got changed and amplified (accord
ing to the Gloucester " Telegraph " of that year) into —

" Old Flood Ireson, for his hord hort,
Was torr'd and feathered and corried in a cort !
Old Flood Ireson, for leaving the wreck,
Was torr'd and feathered all up to his neck !
Old Flood Ireson, for his great sin,
Was torr'd and feathered all up to his chin !
Old Flood Ireson, for his bad behavior,
Was torr'd and feathered and corried to Salem ! '

In the early part of this century the Marblehead
vessels usually made three fishing trips in a season to
the Grand Banks, from March to December. A crew
generally consisted of the skipper, five men, and a
cook. In the autumn of 1807 a capable and intelligent
young Marbleheader of twenty-three years of age,
named Captain Benjamin Ireson (Flood, or Flud, or
Floyd, was a nickname), was placed by her owner in
charge of the schooner " Betty " and despatched to
the Grand Banks. As he was homeward bound on
his third trip, he found himself one midnight with
Cape Cod under his lee, and a high sea running and
a strong wind blowing. The situation was not a
pleasant one to the sailors, who were anxious to get
home. Presently the lumber-schooner " Active," of

228 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

Portland, was descried in a sinking condition, lying
on her beam ends, and the crew were clinging to the
rigging- As to what took place next there is consid
erable uncertainty. The defenders of Captain Ireson
say that he ordered the crew to lie by the wreck till
"doming" (dawn), and then turned in for a little
sleep. Another account says that he and one other
were for immediately rendering assistance ; but the
rest of the crew (being part-owners in the cargo)
refused to do so. The crew themselves, when they
returned, said the captain deserved all the blame. It
is pretty clear that they were all alike guilty. As
for the skipper, the damning fact is not denied that
he never by a word repelled the charge of having
abandoned the ship. The " Betty " arrived in Mar-
blehead October 30, and the very next day who
should come sailing into the port, aboard the sloop
" Swallow," but the captain of the " Active." He had
been rescued, with three of the passengers, by Mr.
Hardy of Truro, in a whale-boat ; but four of his
crew had gone down to Davy Jones's locker.

The story of the abandonment gradually spread
through the town. But no steps were taken at first,
although the wrath and excitement grew more intense
(it being now the idle season with the fishermen).
The fare of fish was unloaded and dried on the flakes
(or platforms of sticks), the " wessel " laid up for the
winter, and " the v'yage sittl'd."

For some days previous to the tarring and feather
ing, a restless, unsettled spirit was manifested by the
more indignant ones, and finally a deputation waited
upon young Captain Ireson, as he was walking to
and fro on Pitman's Wharf, to inquire into the truth

" TELLING THE BEES," AND OTHER BALLADS. 229

or falsity of the accusation against him. He is said
to have been a very taciturn man, and to their inter
rogatories returned no answer, maintaining a dogged
silence to the last. This seemed to them proof posi
tive of his guilt.

Accordingly, the Freemasons held secret meetings
to discuss the matter. Their plan of action was soon
matured, and on the following day the conspirators
suddenly sprang upon him, threw him into a con
demned dory lying on the wharf, where he was held
by one Morse until his hands were tied behind his
back. He made no resistance. A bucket of tar had
been prepared, and the crowd, to the number of a
hundred, laid hold of the long rope tied to the boat's
painter and started on a run through the town, halt
ing at the corner of Darling Street. They had
received a gift of two feather pillows as they came
along, from the wife of Captain David Bruce,1 and,
proceeding to the outskirts of the village, they
applied the tar and feathers, rubbing it in well, and
dabbing two huge lumps of tar on each temple,
wherein were stuck goose feathers. The march was
then resumed toward Salem, and, when the bottom
of the dory came out, the skipper was placed in a
cart. The Salem authorities refused to allow the
crowd to enter that town, whereupon they returned
to Marblehead, and unbound their prisoner, who
said, "I thank you for my ride, gentlemen; but you
will live to regret it." This was the only word he
spoke during the proceedings. He did not return to

1 From this circumstance, the mythical story of the women being
engaged in the matter possibly took its rise.

230 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

his home until night set in, reaching it by a round
about way.

One of his contemporaries, on being asked what
effect the tarring had on Ireson, answered, " Cowed
him to death, cowed him to death." He never went
skipper but once more, and that was the next year.
Thereafter he earned his living by dory-fishing in the
bay, selling his daily catch in a wheelbarrow trun
dled from door to door. He appeared to become
reckless of his life. On one occasion — the story goes
— he landed near the house of one of his old perse
cutors, and deliberately made fast a noose to a large
log, which he then towed away into deep water, hurl
ing bad names at the owner, who called out, —

" Stop, Ireson, or I'll shoot you! "

To which he replied, —

" Fire away, old man! You can't hit me! "

Another old salt tells of having once picked Ireson
up far out at sea, where he had been driven in his
dory by a storm. His savior took him into Glouces
ter. He had not a cent with which to buy a meal
or to get back home. A benevolent individual gave
him his supper, kept him over night, and next day
took up a subscription to pay his fare to Marblehead.
When Ireson had gone, he informed the subscribers
who he was, whereupon they swore, in great wrath,
that, if they had known it, they would not have given
him a penny.

When old age and blindness at last overtook him,
and his last fishing-trip had been made, his old dory
was hauled up into the lane by his house, and there
rotted away. Whittier's ballad appeared in 1856, a
year or two after his death.

"TELLING THE BEES," AND OTHER BALLADS. 231

As has been stated, the " women of Marblehead "
have a very poor opinion of the Quaker poet. In the
autumn of 1889 some young ladies from Salem went
over to Marblehead, on a boating trip, and, while
there, went in search of Floyd Ireson's house. As
they were inquiring their way, a woman thrust her
head out of the window, exclaiming: —

" Want to find Flood Ireson's house, do ye? Well,
you won't find out here, I can't tell ye! Flood
Ireson was every bit as good as you be; and you
treatin' his house 's if 't was a curiosity! You better
go right away from here! "

The young ladies declined to take the advice, and
were not molested. But shortly after another party
on the same errand were pelted with mud by street
gamins.

Mr. Whittier, who has been pained by the way the
ballad has been received, has written a note to
Samuel Roads, Jr., the historian of Marblehead (and
has taken the pains to prefix it to the ballad as pub
lished in the latest edition of his poems), in which
he says, — " My verse was founded solely on a frag
ment of a rhyme which I heard from one of my early
schoolmates, a native of Marblehead. I supposed
the story to which it referred dated back at least a
century. I knew nothing of the participators, and
the narrative of the ballad was pure fancy. I am
glad for the sake of truth and justice that the real
facts are given in thy book [Mr. Roads follows the
popular feeling of the town, and attempts to exoner
ate the skipper]. I certainly would not knowingly
do injustice to any one, dead or living."

Mr. Charles T. Brooks, the genial Unitarian divine

232 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

of Newport, and translator of Richter, wrote some
compassionate verses about " Old Flud," the best of
which are given below. One cannot but feel, how
ever, that his pity is just a little misplaced (like a
good deal of Unitarian philanthropy), and that those
four poor sailors, drowned through the crime of the
skipper, would be fitter subjects for the poet's sym
pathies : —

" Old Flood Ireson ! all too long
Have jeer and jibe and ribald song
Done thy memory cruel wrong.

" Old Flood Ireson sleeps in his grave;
Howls of a mad mob, worse than the wave,
Now no more in his ear shall rave.

" Gone is the pack and gone the prey,
Yet old Flood Ireson's ghost to-day
Is hunted still down Time's highway.

'• Old wife Fame, with a fish-horn's blare
Hooting and tooting the same old air,
Drags him along the old thoroughfare.

" Shall Heaven look on and not take part
With the poor old man and his fluttering heart,
Tarred and feathered and carried in a cart ? "

" Barbara Frietchie " ' is a ballad that cannot be
read by an American without deep emotion. It has

1 The name is properly spelled Fritchie, judging from the in
scriptions on the tombstones of Barbara and her husband in
Frederick.

"TELLING THE BEES," AND OTHER BALLADS. 233

been twice translated into German,1 and was highly
valued by the ex-Emperor of Brazil, Dom Pedro, who,
shortly after its appearance, read it repeatedly in Eng
lish in the presence of members of his Court, and then
brought it to the notice of the Princesses and their
husbands, — the Count d'Eu and the Prince of Saxe-
Coburg-Gotha, — as one of the rarest specimens of
poetry in any literature in its portrayal of the heroic
patriotism of woman.

Not long after the publication of the ballad, in
1863, while sympathy for the South was still strong
and determined in Maryland, the Secession relatives
of Dame Barbara, not relishing such extreme North
ern patriotism as hers, united with the disloyal citi
zens of Frederick in spreading reports of the unau-
thenticity of the incident pictured by the poet ; and it
is surprising to see with what ingenuity they have
wrenched the facts, so as to make them fit their ver
sion of the affair. A dozen and one accounts have
been put forth, and each is inconsistent in one or
more points with the others.

Now, Mr. Whittier wrote to a friend in 1872 that
a nephew of Barbara had visited him and had con
firmed the authenticity of the incident2 To the
editors of the " Century " he also wrote, in the autumn
of 1886:—

" My attention has been called to an article in the

1 The free rendering of the late Hon. Theodore S. Fay, In his
work, " Die Sklavenmacht," is not unspirited, —
" Frisch vom Septembermorgen umhaucht,
Aus goldenen Aehrenvvogen taucht,
Umgriint von den Hiigeln Maryland's,
Der Kirchthurm Frederick's im Sonnenglanz," etc.

8 Potter's American Monthly, 1875, p. 416.

234 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

June number of the ' Century,' in which the writer,
referring to the poem on Barbara Frietchie, says:
* The story will perhaps live, as Mr. Whittier has
boasted, until it gets beyond the reach of correction.'
Those who know me will bear witness that I am not
in the habit of boasting of anything whatever, least
of all of congratulating myself upon a doubtful state
ment outliving the possibility of correction. I cer
tainly made no 'boast' of the kind imputed to me.
The poem of Barbara Frietchie was written in good
faith. The story was no invention of mine. It came
to me from sources which I regarded as entirely
reliable; it had been published in newspapers, and
had gained public credence in Washington and Mary
land before my poem was written. I had no reason
to doubt its accuracy then, and I am still constrained
to believe that it had foundation in fact. If I thought
otherwise, I should not hesitate to express it. I have
no pride of authorship to interfere with my allegiance
to truth."

The writer referred to by the poet is Colonel Henry
Kyd Douglas of the Confederate army, who, in his
article on General Jackson in the "Century," June,
1886, p. 287, goes out of his way to affront Mr. Whit-
tier. He says no such incident ever happened, since
he was with General Jackson at the time. He shows
how much he knows about the matter by adding con
temptuously that there was such an old woman as
Barbara Frietchie, but that she was bed-ridden. The
falsity of the latter part of this affirmation will appear
as we unfold the true account. It is very clear from
the tone of this Confederate colonel's remarks that
such stanzas in the ballad as—

" TELLING THE BEES," AND OTHER BALLADS. 235

" ' Shoot, if you must, this old gray head,

But spare your country's flag,' she said,"
must have pricked hard the consciences of the South
erners. T was a home thrust, — especially to soldiers,
who are sensitive to the approval or the disapproval
of woman, and who are placed by the poet in the
light of naughty boys being spanked by their mamma,
Dame Columbia (typified, one may say, in old Barbara
Frietchie).

Now, the poet Whittier has been considerably dis
turbed by the rumpus kicked up by the Southerners
over this ballad, and, wishing to be obliging, has pre
fixed a note to it in the recent library edition of his
poems, in which he makes unnecessary concessions,
as I think I shall show. He says: "The story was
probably incorrect in some of its details. It is admit
ted by all that Barbara Frietchie was no myth, but
a worthy and highly esteemed gentlewoman, intensely
loyal, and a hater of the Slavery Rebellion, holding
her Union flag sacred and keeping it with her Bible;
that when the Confederates halted before her house,
and entered her dooryard, she denounced them in
vigorous language, shook her cane in their faces, and
drove them out; and, when General Burnside's troops
followed close upon Jackson's, she waved her flag and
cheered them. It is stated that May Quantrell, a
brave and loyal lady in another part of the city, did
wave her flag in sight of the Confederates. It is
possible that there has been a blending of the two
incidents."

Mrs. Mary A. Quantrell was a pretty, black-haired
woman of thirty-two at that time. She stood at her
gate with her daughter " Virgie," and both courage-

236 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

ously waved Union flags in the face of the Confed
erates. As the little girl was flourishing a small flag,
an officer cut the stick in two with his sword. She
picked up another, and that, too, was cut out of her
hand, the men exclaiming, " Throw down that flag! "
Mrs. Quantrell waved a larger flag, and was not
molested. Some of the officers, with characteristic
Southern politeness, raised their hats, saying, " To
you, madam, not your flag."1

Reports of Barbara Frietchie's patriotism and valor
were carried to Washington by citizens of Frederick.
It was Mrs. E. D. E. N. Southworth, of Washington,
who first sent an account of her to Whittier, enclos
ing a newspaper slip about her spirited treatment of
the Confederates under Jackson, as described by Mr.
Whittier above. Mr. Whittier was afterwards as
sured by Miss Dorothea L. Dix, who had been caring
for the wounded in a hospital in Frederick, that the
story was true, virtually as he has sung it. Later he
was presented with a cane made from the wood of
Barbara's house.

About the year 1881, Mrs. Caroline H. Dall went to
Frederick and made an exhaustive study of the
whole matter.3 The result of her investigation was
a conviction that the poem has an historic basis. The
deniers of its authenticity affirm that Jackson was
not riding at the head of his troops at all. But Mrs.
Dall learned that he had only ridden hastily back for

1 Article by Joseph Walker in Baltimore " Herald," Sept. 29,
1884; quoted in " American Notes and Queries," Oct. 6, 1888.

2 See the Boston " Evening Transcript," June, 1888, Query
12,827.

"TELLING THE BEES," AND OTHER BALLADS. 237

a few moments to leave a note at the door of a friend
with whom he intended to pass the Sunday follow
ing, and overtook the column just as the guns were
pointed at Barbara's flag. In continuation of their
subterfuges and quibbling with the literal text of the
ballad, the Southerners affirm that Jackson's army
did not enter Frederick at all. This is literally true,
but practically false. The army did not pass through
the town, but did pass within fifteen or twenty feet
of one of its boundary lines. Frederick town is
separated from Frederick County by Carroll Creek,
a very narrow stream (about the width of an ordinary
street), and the road traversed by Jackson's soldiers
lay along the farther side of that creek. But Barbara
Frietchie's house overhung the stream. Her husband
was a glover, and the house had been so constructed
that the trimmings of the shop might be swept into
the stream through a trap door. There was but one
window on the side of the house next to the creek,
and that was in the attic. It was here that she waved
the flag, and in the photographs sold in the town it
is always represented as fluttering from this window.
The little flag is about 12 x 18 inches, has but thirty-
four stars, is of silk, and is attached to a staff some
three feet long. It is still preserved by her niece,
Mrs. Handschue. This good lady affirms that the
incident is apocryphal, for she was in the house and
saw nothing of it. But Mrs. Dall said she learned
on inquiry that the niece was at the time hidden
under the bed, saying her prayers in German ! Mrs.
Handschue's daughter, Mrs. Abbott, writes that,
when later the Union troops under Burnside marched
by the front door, the old lady stood on her porch,

238 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

leaning on her cane, and waving her silken flag of
the Union. She was then over ninety-six. The men
cheered her again and again. Some even ran into
the yard to shake hands, exclaiming: " God bless
you, old lady! May you live long! " On the oppo
site side of the narrow street stood a white-haired
German pastor, over a hundred years old, and it was
said that the tears of joy streamed down the cheeks
of both as they waved their flags.

We are told also that on other occasions, if, on go
ing out, she found rebel soldiers encumbering her
door steps, she would strike them right and left, cry
ing, " Off, off, you lousy Rebels ! " '

Let it be noted that General Jackson passed
through Frederick, en route to capture Harper's
Ferry, on Sept. 6, 1862, and that on December 18, three
months later, Barbara Frietchie died, and was buried
in the cemetery of the German Reformed Church in
Frederick. a Whittier's ballad did not appear until
October, 1863, when it was published in the "Atlan
tic Monthly," nearly a year after Barbara had passed
away. Mr. Joseph Walker, her son-in-law, claims to
know all about the matter, and speaking, probably
from hearsay or remembrance, twenty-two years
after the event, says Barbara never claimed the credit
of the General Jackson incident nor even alluded to
it. Perhaps not. But why should she? It would not
have seemed to her anything very extraordinary to
do. She may have said nothing to the Confederate

1 Sunday Afternoon Magazine, April 8.

2 The Century Company's " War Book," ii. 618 ; article by
George O. Seilheimer.

" TELLING THE BEES," AND OTHER BALLADS. 239

soldiers, and there may possibly have been no firing
at the flag, — or, if there was, she would have deemed
it prudent not to mention it to her terrified niece.
Her well-known patriotism makes it nearly certain
that she would not have allowed a Confederate army
to pass under her window without rebuking it (as
she did in the case mentioned by Mr. Whittier).
Very well. The incident of the flag happened, and
was forgotten. Gradually, as we know, her reputa
tion for patriotism spread; and then some citizen or
one of Jackson's soldiers recalled that little scene at
the attic window; the account reached Washington,
and later was sent on to Mr. Whittier. In the hurly-
burly of war it may well have happened that her own
niece remained in ignorance that the flag-story was
circulating elsewhere. Then in three months the old
lady was beyond the reach of questions.

In further confirmation of the incident Mrs. Dall
states (" Unitarian Review," September, 1878) that
she had received a letter from an Englishman of
education, a member of the Shakespeare Society, who
was a soldier in the Union Army and member of
Burnside's Ninth Army Corps. He states that on
September 18, 1862, twelve days after the entrance of
Jackson into Frederick, he passed through the town
with an ambulance of wounded men. Stopping for
refreshments at a restaurant, they were told by a
pretty Irish girl the story of the firing on the flag.
The girl was a Confederate sympathizer, and ex
claimed, " Bully for Jackson ! " This shows that the
story was common talk twelve days after the event.
This Englishman went South after the war, and once
read the ballad aloud at a public meeting. Persons

240 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

present testified to their personal knowledge of the
countermanding by Jackson of the order to fire. In
1868 a Union officer, one of the convalescent patients
in the Frederick hospital at the time, told Mrs. Dall
that he himself saw the shot fired at the flag.

One day, shortly before her death, says Mrs. Dall,
two friends called on Barbara Frietchie to pay her
some money owed her. They found her sitting by
the window knitting. She wore a black satin dress
and a snow-white cap; a white kerchief was pinned
over her shoulders. When the money had been paid,
a pen was put into her hand, and she was shown
where to make her mark. She pushed back her gold
spectacles, and with a smile drew her pen through the
name that had been written for her, writing it her
self with a steady hand, saying to her friend, " Honey,
I wrote my name before you were born."

There is another ballad of Whittier's founded on
an incident the authenticity of which is denied by
certain authorities. I refer to the poem " Brown of
Ossawatomie," and especially to the second stanza,
in which are embodied the subject and raison d'etre of
the whole piece:—

"John Brown of Ossawatomie, they led him out to die ;
And lo ! a poor slave-mother with her little child pressed

nigh.
Then the bold blue eye grew tender, and the old harsh face

grew mild,
As he stooped between the jeering ranks and kissed the

negro's child ! "

Mr. Thomas Hovenden, of Philadelphia, has put
this scene into a powerful realistic painting, contain-

" TELLING THE BEES," AND OTHER BALLADS. 241

ing twenty-two figures, eight or nine of them care
fully finished studies. It is a great historical work,
the value of which will enormously increase with
time. My description of this painting in successive
numbers of the Boston "Index" in 1885 brought out
important evidence as to the authenticity of the story
upon which the painting is based, — especially a long
editorial in the New York " Sun " of September 27th
of that year, written by Edward F. Underbill. Mr.
Underhill thinks that my belief in the truth of the
story of the child-kissing by Brown is built upon
sand. It may be so, but let us see. No one knew
before the appearance of Mr. Underbill's editorial
where the famous passage came from which was
taken by Redpath from the New York " Tribune "
for his Life of John Brown, and thence extracted by
Greeley for his History of the Civil War, and which
formed the basis of Whittier's poem and Hovenden's
painting. The truth is now revealed: it came from
the journalistic brain of Mr. Underhill. In his " Trib
une " article, he tells a number of journalistic false
hoods, assumes to have been an eye-witness of every
thing he relates, speaks of the very expression of
Brown's face, his smile, the elasticity of his step, and
says he (the writer) was present at the scaffold. But
Mr. Underhill now tells us that this was only a jour
nalistic trick. He was detailed by the editor-in-chief
to write the article, and to put it in the form of corre
spondence, in order to deceive the vigilant Southern
ers at Charleston, who were ready to string up the
authors of all letters to Northern papers. The infor
mation for his article Mr. Underhill got from the
Abolitionist, Mr. J. Miller McKim, who came to the
16

242 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

11 Tribune " office two days after the hanging, in com
pany with Mrs. John Brown. Mr. McKim had not
been allowed to go to Charleston where Brown was,
but waited at Harper's Ferry while Mrs. Brown went
on to see her husband. After her return to the Ferry,
and while they were both waiting there for Brown's
remains to be delivered to them, McKim heard, in
conversation with others, the statement about the
kissing of the slave-child. It did not come at first
or even second hand to him. But somehow it had got
abroad. Was it true ? Only two persons whose word
is entitled to any weight have denied it. These are
Mr. Redpath and John Brown's jailer, Captain Avis.
Brown's best biographer, Mr. F. B. Sanborn, wrote
to me, in 1885: " Redpath, who gave currency to the
story, told me five years ago that it was not true. He
depended on Ned House (the 'Tribune' correspond
ent) for it (as he said), and he had discovered that
House invented it." Now, Edward H. House was
present during the entire trial and execution, and
sent on letters, by secret channels, to the New York
papers. But we have just seen that it was not he
who furnished the narrative to the " Tribune." So
that Mr. Redpath was mistaken. House did not in
vent the "Tribune" narrative. As for Captain Avis,
he testified in 1882 as follows : "Brown was between
Sheriff Campbell and me; and a guard of soldiers
surrounded him, and allowed no person to come be
tween them and the prisoner, from the jail to the
scaffold, except his escorts." But may we not believe
that in the confusion of the party as they emerged
from the jail through the narrow little porch, and
just before the formal positions of the march to the

"TELLING THE BEES," AND OTHER BALLADS. 243

wagon had been assumed, the rough old hero, who
had helped so many slaves out of bondage, stooped,
with his usual alertness, although his arms were tied
behind him, to kiss the slave-child (as a last example
to the world), and passed on, Captain Avis being at
that instant separated from him by an intervening
body, or having his attention drawn to the military
before the door?

" The most charming and best authenticated of all
our traditions," says Edward Everett Hale, " is that
commemorated in Whittier's beautiful ballad ' The
Palatine.' ' It is a story of the pillage and burning
of a ship by wreckers, and of its annual reappearance as
a phantom ship of fire. The scene of the legend is
Block Island, called by the Indians Manisees, " the
Isle of the Little God." Here once, it is remem
bered, came bold Captain Underbill, and in an
Indian fight received an arrow against his helmeted
forehead. Picturesque in its bluffs and in its fifteen
miles of surf-beaten sea-coast, encircled by seas
always blue, there it lies, menacing alike in its smile
and its frown, with its death-scented traditions of
innumerable wrecks and wreckers, and pirate deeds,
planted right athwart the track of ships sailing out
of and into Long Island Sound, not the fabled
Symplegades shunned more by mariners (even now
with its fine lighthouses and brilliantly lighted sum
mer hotels), — such is Block Island. Leagues north
from the mainland,

" Point Judith watches with eye of hawk ;
Leagues south, thy beacon flames, Montauk."

— Whittirr.

244 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

We have a picture of the sea view in Walt Whit
man's " From Montauk Point " : —

" I stand as on some mighty eagle's beak
Eastward the sea absorbing, viewing, (nothing but sea and

sky,)

The tossing waves, the foam, the ships in the distance,
The wild unrest, the snowy, curling caps — that inbound

urge and urge of waves,
Seeking the shores forever."

That Nestor of American poets, the elder Dana,
describes Block Island in his " Buccaneer " : —

" The island lies nine leagues away,

Along its solitary shore,

Of craggy rock and sandy bay,

No sound but ocean's roar,

Save where the bold wild sea-bird makes her home,
Her shrill cry coming through the sparkling foam.

" But when the light winds lie at rest,
And on the glassy heaving sea
The black duck, with her glossy breast,
Sits swinging silently, —
How beautiful ! no ripples break the reach,
And silvery waves go noiseless up the beach."

So far as can be discovered, the essential facts of
the wreck of the " Palatine," as handed down by tra
dition, are these : ' The " Palatine" was a German

1 1 have consulted the following authorities : William P. Shef
field's " Historical Sketch of Block Island," 1876; S. T. Liver-
more's " History of Block Island," 1877 ; Charles Lanman's
" Recollections of Curious Characters and Pleasant Places,"
pp. 297-304; Drake's " New England Legends," p. 406; Edward
E. Hale's " Christmas in Narragansett," p. 285; and the Poems of
Richard H. Dana, Sen.

" TELLING THE BEES," AND OTHER BALLADS. 245

emigrant ship, though many of her passengers were
quite wealthy. The captain had either died or been
murdered on the voyage hither, and the diabolical
crew had caused the ship to lie off and on, skirting
the coasts of Delaware for weeks, while they robbed
the passengers of all they could extort by the process
of starving them nearly to death and then charging
exorbitant rates for morsels of food and drink.
When they had got all they could, the crew forsook
the ship, which drifted ashore on Block Island one
bright Sabbath morning, between the festivals of
Christmas and New Year's. The wreckers boarded
her, and found that some of the miserable passengers
were delirious. They landed them all except one
woman, Mary Vanderline, who had much gold and
silver plate aboard, and who refused to leave the
ship. Many of the suffering emigrants died shortly
afterwards, and were buried on the island. The
wreckers towed the ship into a little cove, where,
having pillaged her, they set her on fire and let her
drift out to sea with the unfortunate woman on
board (probably having stolen her treasure-chest, as
we shall see). The ship drifted away into the dark
ness of a stormy winter night, her spars and cordage
painted in flame on the sky, and the waves blood-red
below, while the surf boomed on the shore, the wind
flung the swirling sand about, and (as tradition says)
the shrieks of the abandoned woman could be heard
far off, growing each moment fainter and fainter.

" In their cruel hearts, as they homeward sped,
' The sea and the rocks are dumb/ they said ;
'There '11 be no reckoning with the dead.'

246 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

" But the year went round, and when once more
Along the foam-white curves of shore
They heard the line-storm rave and roar,

" Behold ! again, with shimmer and shine,
Over the rocks and the seething brine,
The flaming wreck of the Palatine ! "

— Whittier.

There can be little doubt that the poet Dana had
heard this legend of the phantom ship, which he thus
describes in his hysterical, blood-and-thunder poem,
"The Buccaneer":—

" T is near mid-hour of night :
What means upon the waters that red light?

" Not higger than a star it seems,

And now 't is like the bloody moon !

And now it shoots in hairy streams !

It moves ! — 'T will reach us soon !
A ship ! and all on fire ! — hull, yard, and mast !
Her sails are sheets of flame ! — she 's nearing fast !

" And now she rides upright and still,

Shedding a wild and lurid light

Around the cove, on inland hill,

Waking the gloom of night.
All breathes of terror ! men, in dumb amaze,
Gaze on each other in the horrid blaze."

No phenomenon is better authenticated than this
of the moving flame of Block Island. It is probably
to be classed with such electrical appearances at sea
as the St. Elmo's light so often seen on the tips of
spars and masts. I notice that' Winthrop, in the first
volume of his History of New England, speaks of a
great light seen in the night on a river near Boston :

"TELLING THE BEES," AND OTHER BALLADS. 247

" When it stood still, it flamed up, and was about
three yards square ; when it ran, it was contracted
into the figure of a swine. It ran as swift as an arrow
toward Charl[es]ton, and so up and down about two
or three hours."

In 1811, Dr. Aaron C. Willey, who then lived on
Block Island, wrote a letter to Dr. Samuel Mitchell,
of New York City, in which he described the "Pala
tine " light. His letter was printed in a publication
called " The Parthenon." Following are extracts
from this letter :—

" The people who have always lived here are so
familiarized to the sight that they never think of
giving notice to those who do not happen to be
present, or even of mentioning it afterwards, unless
they hear some particular enquiries are made.

" This curious irradiative rises from the ocean near
the northern part of the island. Its appearance is
nothing different from a blaze of fire. Whether it
actually touches the water, or merely hovers over it,
is uncertain, for I have been informed that no person
has been near enough to decide accurately. It beams
with various magnitudes, and appears to bear no more
analogy to the ignis fatuus than it does to the Aurora
borealis. Sometimes it is small, resembling the light
through a distant window ; at others expanding to the
highness of a ship with all her canvas spread. . . .

" When most expanded, this blaze is generally
wavering like the flame of a torch. At one time it
appears stationary, at another progressive. . . .

" It is often seen blazing at six or seven miles' dis
tance, and strangers suppose it to be a vessel on
fire. . .

248 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

" The first time I beheld it was at evening twilight,
in February, 1810. It was large and gently lambent,
very bright, broad at the bottom .and terminating
acutely upward. . . .

" I saw it again on the evening of December the
2oth. It was then small, and I supposed it to be a
light on board of some vessel, but I was soon unde
ceived. It moved along, apparently parallel to the
shore, for about two miles, in the time that I was
riding one at a moderate pace."

In his treatment of the tradition of the " Palatine,"
Mr. Whittier has been charged with having accused
the now dead and gone wreckers of Block Island of
acts of which they were never guilty. Rev. S. T.
Livermore thinks that "the representing of an entire
community of law-abiding Christian people as bar
barians and pirates is intolerable." But his attempts
to invalidate the tradition seem quite weak. He says
that after the appearance of Mr. Whittier's ballad
researches were made in the customs archives of
Rotterdam and Amsterdam, but that no record of
any ship named the " Palatine " could be found,
except of one that was wrecked in the Bay of Bengal
in 1784. This proves conclusively, thinks Mr. Liver-
more, that the " Palatine " was not wrecked on Block
Island! But is it not ridiculous to assume that there
was in the world but one ship of that name ? There
were probably many. Two ships of the same name
were once wrecked on Block Island itself, and on the
same day. Then the attempts that have been made
to bolster up the character of the old islanders have
not been very successful, it seems to me. Mr. Sam
uel Adams Drake (one of the first authorities on New

11 TELLING THE BEES," AND OTHER BALLADS. 249

England traditions) says of Block Island: "Somehow,
the reputation of the island was never good." "Sail
ors always shook their heads when they spoke of
Block Island. A bad lee shore, a place of no good
hap for the unlucky mariner who might be driven
upon it, were prevailing notions, — and firmly rooted
ones, — to which dark hints, and still darker traditions,
concerning shipwrecked crews and valuable cargoes,
give a certain color and consistency. * I would rather
be wrecked anywhere than on Block Island,' became
a common and significant saying in the forecastle or
the midnight watch, when the dark mass of the island
heaved in sight." 1

" As a general rule, most wreckers would be called
hard characters," says Mr. W. F. G. Shanks.2 Charles
Lanman, in his valuable chapter on Block Island,
states that there have been as many as one thousand
wrecks on the island during the past century, and
that the wreckers have grown rich from them.

The hint for his poem " The Palatine " came to Mr.
Whittier from James Hazard, of Newport. When
complaints of the islanders came to the poet in 1876,
he wrote to Charles E. Perry, a Block Islander, as
follows : —

" In regard to the poem ' Palatine,' I can only say
that I did not intend to misrepresent the facts of
history. I wrote it after receiving a letter from Mr.
Hazard, of Rhode Island, from which I certainly
inferred that the ship was pillaged by the islanders.
He mentioned that one of the crew, to save himself,

1 New England Legends, p. 406.

2 Harper's Monthly, xxxviii. 433. See also xviii. 577.

250 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

clung to the boat of the wreckers, who cut his hand
off with a sword. It is very possible that my corre
spondent followed the current tradition on the main
land. . . .

" Mr. Hazard is a gentleman of character and
veracity, and I have no doubt he gave the version of
the story as he had heard it."

The reader will notice that a part of the letter is
withheld from the public by Mr. Perry.

Now, what is the value of the traditions as handed
down ? The occurrence of the wreck is known to
have been about the year 1750. The gulf of time
from that day to this is spanned by two or three
lives, and the chain of tradition is admitted to be
unbroken. Two of the women who were saved had
the same name, — Kate, — and were styled by the
islanders Short Kattern and Long Kattern. It was
Long Kattern who told of the starving of the emi
grants by the crew of the ship. Her descendants are
living to-day. The tradition is traced back along
two or three other threads. It must be remembered
that the Block Islanders were for a hundred -and
seventy years without mails or printing-press, —
entirely cut off from regular communication with the
mainland. In such cases traditions are always ten
acious and of great historical value. Memory is
cultivated by fishermen to an astonishing extent. I
once talked with one of this class living at the mouth
of the Connecticut River who could quote by the
hour from all the great English poets.

Again, if the " Palatine " were not wrecked, how is
it, I would ask, that logs of Lignum vita from her
cargo were obtained by the islanders, worked up

" TELLING THE BEES," AND OTHER BALLADS. 251

into mortars for grinding corn, and transmitted to
the descendants of the original wreckers? These
mortars are to be seen still, and no one has denied
that they were from the " Palatine." Then it is not
denied that a number of the silver cups which
belonged to the passengers are still shown on the
island, and Mr. Whittier was presented with a plate
which is said to have come from the ship. It seems
pretty evident that these silver cups were from the
treasure-box of poor Mary Vanderline, the woman
who perished on the burning vessel. The poet Dana,
who lived comparatively near the island, and was
born only about thirty-five years after the wreck, has
in his poem " The Buccaneer " a Spanish lady who is
murdered for her gold by the Block Island cut-throat,
Lee. That Dana had in mind the " Palatine " tradi
tion when he wrote is proved not only by this inci
dent, but by other correspondences too close to be
the result of chance. For example, in the poem, as
by the tradition, the vessel is set on fire and then
abandoned; and in both the spectre ship appears.

It is a curious thing, — this bitter determination of
our times to deny the possibility of heroic deeds,
and, conversely, to soften down or wholly excuse
great crimes. There is no such thing as genius, they
are happy to inform us; and self-sacrificing heroism
is laughed at, unless interest is somehow spied as a
motive. Homer never wrote the Iliad, nor Shakspere
his plays; Christ never really existed; Joan of Arc
was no heroine at all; Cromwell was a humbug, and
so was John Brown; grand old Walt Whitman is a
disgrace to the earth; William Lloyd Garrison was
only actuated by love of fame; the pipers did n't pipe

252 /OHN G. WHITTIER.

at Lucknow, Barbara did n't wave her flag, and Sheri
dan rode only eight miles, not twenty. The diluted
ethical wash is applied with a broad brush to nearly
every great personality and noble deed in history.
There is the story of John Brown magnanimously
kissing the little slave-child in its mother's arms.
Assuming the incident to be true, we may suppose
he did it on purpose to rebuke the shameful color-
caste which makes America as provincial and as infe
rior to England in social ethics as she is in the matter
of free trade and copyright.1 But the very idea of
such an act excites our repugnance. Oh, no! John
Brown never did such a thing. Christ had a darker
skin than thousands of negroes in America, but he
would never have taken a little negro child in his
arms and blessed it, poor thing ! And little Eva
caressing and kissing Uncle Tom, — what a shocking
matter! You may hug and kiss your poodle dogs,
my dear children, but do n't touch even with the tongs
such persons as Frederick Douglass, or Crispus
Attucks, or Toussaint L'Ouverture, or Alexandre
Dumas.

Precisely the same spirit that would drag down
the great to the common level seeks to lift up to that
level those who have fallen below it, — the great
criminals of history, from Napoleon and Henry VIII.
down to Boss Tweed and Jim Fiske and the whole

1 Strong, robust natures never have this hysterical-morbid horror
of the negro. Louisa M. Alcott, in her "Hospital Sketches"
(p. 76), tells how her Abolition blood took fire one day in Wash
ington and, just to give a lesson to a nase-weis Southern woman,
she caught up a funny little black cherub and kissed it. She was
henceforth regarded as a dangerous fanatic.

" TELLING THE BEES," AND OTHER BALLADS. 253

rogues-gallery brigade of American plutocratic
scoundrels. There, for example, is Skipper Ireson,
the poor fellow ! Do you know it is all a mistake
about the young skipper's leaving those men to
drown? It was n't he, after all: it was somebody else.
And there were those men of Block Island a hundred
and fifty years ago, — not savage, stony-hearted
wreckers at all, but God-fearing, benevolent gentle
men of the sea, who tenderly cared for shipwrecked
crews, and were never in their lives known to plunder
a cargo, knock a sailor on the head, or burn a ship.
Oh, no, not they! It was those other fellows, the
pirates, you know, who used to come to the island.
People read about the pirates, and gradually came
to think that all the inhabitants of the island were
cut-throat rascals like these, say the modern Block
Islanders. But fair and softly, good friends! We
cannot dress up all our grim forbears in stoles and albs.
This is a wild rough world, and some pretty grisly
things have been done on its surface. It won't hurt
us to admit it, either.

There has been a little discussion about the
authenticity of the thrilling incident told in Whit-
tier's " Pipes at Lucknow": —

" Pipes of the misty moorlands,

Voice of the glens and hills;
The droning of the torrents,

The treble of the rills !
Not the braes of hroom and heather,

Nor the mountains dark with rain,
Nor maiden bower, nor border tower,

Have heard your sweetest strain !

254 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

" Dear to the Lowland reaper,

And plaided mountaineer, —
To the cottage and the castle

The Scottish pipes are dear ; —
Sweet sounds the ancient pibroch

O'er mountain, loch, and glade ;
But the sweetest of all music

The pipes at Lucknow played."

The Lucknow incident was enticing to poets, and
in Scotland it gave birth to many a ballad and song.
But Whittier's in America excelled them all. Late
in his life, Tennyson wrote a wretched piece of
fustian on the subject. The closing lines are good:—

" Saved by the valour of Havelock, saved by the blessing of

Heaven !

' Hold it for fifteen days ! ' we have held it for eighty-seven!
And ever aloft on the palace roof the old banner of England
blew."

The city of Lucknow consists chiefly of a long
straggling street of houses stretching away from the
great compound house called the Residency, which
rises from an eminence by the river Goomtee. The
garrison building is, or was, in the form of a squarish-
built, battlemented structure. For a mile or so in
front of it are enormous Versailles-like palaces and
court-yards and tombs of princes. Not long after
the rebellion broke out, Sir Henry Lawrence had put
the Residency into a state of siege. Martial law had
been proclaimed; treasure and ammunition buried;
houses unroofed or blown up; carriages, mahogany
tables, and a splendid Oriental library converted into
a barricade; batteries made; stockades formed; and

" TELLING THE BEES," AND OTHER BALLADS 255

the racket-court thatched and stored with bhoosa for
the cattle. The heroic garrison, at the time of the
incident of the poem, had held out for nearly three
months against the ferocious Sepoys. All hope of
rescue had been abandoned; the Residency was rid
dled with cannon-shot and bullets, and surrender
had become only a question of days. It was known
that a rescuing force was approaching, but no one
knew where it was.

Here, now, comes in the account which gave rise
to the poem. It was published in the " Jersey Times"
(England) Dec. 10, 1857, with this editorial prefix:
"The following is an extract from a letter written by
M. de Banneroi, a French physician in the service
of Mussur Rajah, and published in " Le Pays " (Paris
paper) under the date of Calcutta, Oct. 8."1

" I give you the following account of the relief of
Lucknow, as described by a lady, one of the rescued
party: —

" * On every side, death stared us in the face; no
human skill could avert it any longer. We saw the
moment approach when we must bid farewell to
earth, yet without feeling that unutterable horror
which must have been experienced by the unhappy
victims of Cawnpore. We were resolved to die
rather than yield, and were fully persuaded that in
twenty-four hours all would be over. The engineers
had said so, and all knew the worst. We women

1 The whole extract is quoted in the Boston " Liberator," Jan.
22, 1858. A poor rewritten copy, with some of the choicest mor
sels gnawed out, was printed in " LittelPs Living Age," Jan. 23,
1858. Whittier's poem " Lucknow " was printed in the " National
Era " in the same month.

256 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

strove to encourage each other, and to perform the
light duties which had been assigned to us, such as
conveying orders to the batteries, and supplying the
men with provisions, especially cups of coffee, which
we prepared day and night. I had gone out to try
and make myself useful, in company with Jessie
Brown, the wife of a corporal in my husband's regi
ment. Poor Jessie had been in a state of restless
anxiety all through the siege, and had fallen away
visibly within the last few days. A constant fever
consumed her, and her mind wandered occasionally,
especially that day, when the recollections of home
seemed powerfully present to her. At last, overcome
with fatigue, she lay down on the ground, wrapped
up in her plaid. I sat beside her, promising to
awaken her when, as she said, ' her father should
return from the ploughing.' She fell at length into
a profound slumber, motionless and apparently
breathless, her head resting in my lap. I myself could
no longer resist the inclination to sleep, in spite of
the continued roar of cannon. Suddenly, I was
aroused by a wild, unearthly scream close to my ear;
my companion stood up beside me, her arms raised,
and her head bent forward in the attitude of listen
ing. A look of intense delight broke over her coun
tenance; she grasped my hand, drew me toward her,
and exclaimed, ' Dinna ye hear it ? dinna ye hear it ?
Ay, I 'm no dreamin', it 's the slogan o' the Highlanders!
We 're saved, we 're saved! ' Then, flinging herself on
her knees, she thanked God with passionate fervor.

" ' I felt utterly bewildered : my English ears heard
only the roar of artillery, and I thought my poor
Jessie was still raving ; but she darted to the batteries,

" TELLING THE BEES," AND OTHER BALLADS. 257

and I heard her cry incessantly to the men, " Courage I
Courage! Hark to the slogan — to the MacGregor, the
grandest of them a'! Here's help at last !" To
describe the effect of these words upon the soldiers
would be impossible. For a moment they ceased
firing, and every soul listened in intense anxiety.
Gradually, however, there arose a murmur of intense
disappointment, and the wailing of the women who
had flocked to the spot burst out anew as the colonel
shook his head. Our dull lowland ears heard nothing
but the rattle of the musketry. A few moments more
of this death-like suspense, of this agonizing hope,
and Jessie, who had again sunk on the ground [the
best place for detecting a distant sound], sprang to
her feet, and cried in a voice so clear and piercing
that it was heard along the whole line, — " Will ye no
believe it noo ? The slogan has ceased, but the Camp
bells are comin'! D' ye hear, d' ye hear ?" At that
moment we seemed to hear the voice of God in the
distance, when the pibroch of the Highlanders brought
us tidings of deliverance, for now there was no longer
any doubt of the fact. That shrill, penetrating, cease
less sound, which rose above all other sounds, could
come neither from the advance of the enemy nor
from the work of the sappers. No, it was indeed the
blast of the Scottish bagpipes, now shrill and harsh,
as threatening vengeance on the foe, then in softer
tones seeming to promise succor to their friends in
need.' "

" Louder, nearer, fierce as vengeance,

Sharp and shrill as swords at strife,
Came the wild MacGregor's clan-call,
Stinging all the air to life.

17

258 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

But when the far-off dust-cloud

To plaided legions grew,
Full tenderly and blithesomely

The pipes of rescue blew ! "

"'Never surely was there such a scene as that
which followed. Not a heart in the Residency of
Lucknow but bowed itself before God. All by one
simultaneous impulse fell upon their knees, and noth
ing was heard but bursting sobs and the murmured
voice of prayer. Then all arose, and there rang out
from a thousand lips a great sound of joy which
resounded far and wide, and lent new vigor to that
blessed pibroch. To our cheer of " God save the
Queen," they replied by the well-known strain that
moves every Scot to tears, " Should auld acquaint
ance be forgot." After that, nothing else made any
impression on me. I scarcely remember what fol
lowed. Jessie was presented to the General on his
entrance into the fort, and at the officers' banquet
her health was drunk by all present, while the pipers
marched round the table playing once more the
familiar air of " Auld Lang Syne." ' "

Another lady wrote : " Never shall I forget the
moment to the latest day I live. It was most
overpowering. We had no idea they were so near,
and were breathing air in the portico as usual at that
hour, speculating when they might be in, not expect
ing they could reach us for several days longer, when
suddenly, just at dark, we heard a very sharp fire of
musketry quite close by, and then a tremendous
cheering ; an instant after, the sound of bagpipes,
then soldiers running up the road, our compound
and veranda filled with our deliverers, and all of us

" TELLING THE BEES," AND OTHER BALLADS. 259

shaking hands frantically, and exchanging fervent
1 God bless you's' with the gallant men and officers
of the ySth Highlanders. Sir James Outram and
staff were the next to come in, and the state of joyful
confusion and excitement is beyond all description.
The big rough-bearded soldiers were seizing the
little children out of our arms, kissing them with
tears rolling down their cheeks, and thanking God
they had come in time to save them from the fate of
those at Cawnpore. . . . The faces of utter
strangers beamed upon each other like those of
dearest friends and brothers." 1

There was one incident of the rescue that, stupefied
and blunted as their feelings were by scenes of car
nage, touched the hearts of all. I refer to the bayo-
netting of several loyal Sepoys by mistake as the
infuriated Highlanders rushed in. One of these
natives, as he was dying, waved his hand and said :
" It is all for the good cause. Welcome, friend ! "

The war-cry of the MacGregors, alluded to by
Whittier, is " O 'ard choille ! "

No sooner was the story of Jessie Brown and the
Highlanders published than the sceptical and criti
cal fry began to open fire on it. Some one in
" Notes and Queries " thought the whole story must
be apocryphal, because the narrator of it seemed
stupidly to confound the slogan, or war-cry, with the
pibroch, or music of the bagpipes (but look back, and
you will see that it is not so). Mr. Critic thought,
further, that the ancient slogans were not likely to

1 A Lady's Diary of the Seige of Lucknow, London, Murray,
1858, p. 119.

260 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

have been used by modern Highlanders. Then, the
Calcutta correspondent of the " Nonconformist "
murmurs, with a rich purr of self-complacency :—

" We have read with some surprise and amusement
that wonderful story published in the English papers
about Jessie Brown and the slogan of the Highland
ers, in Havelock's relief of Lucknow. I have been
assured by one of the garrison that it is a pure inven
tion, i. No letter of the date mentioned could have
reached Calcutta when the story is said to have
arrived. 2. There was no Jessie Brown in Lucknow.
3. The y8th neither played their pipes nor howled out
the slogan as they came in; they had something else
to do. 4. They never marched round the dinner-
table with their pipes the same evening at all."

" There was no Jessie Brown "; but L. G. R. Rees,
one of the surviving defenders, says in his authorita
tive work on Lucknow that there were at the time
eight hundred women and children in the Residency.
Pray, how did our Calcutta correspondent know
them all ? Did he know one of them ? Probably not.
Did his informer know more than a dozen or more of
their names ? It was impossible. There were at
least two women named Brown there, as appears
from Mr. Rees's list of commisioned officers and vol
unteer helpers and their families. Again, " There
was no playing of bagpipes," says our critic, hun
dreds of miles away from the scene. But every book
account we have, written by the besieged, states that
the Highlanders did play their pipes, not when they
were rushing in of course, hard pressed by the
enemy, but at some time in the slow march towards
the garrison. As for the playing of the pipers around

"TELLING THE BEES," AND OTHER BALLADS. 261

the dinner-table, we need only recall George MacDon-
ald's " Malcolm," and ask whether the piping was not
almost sure to have occurred.

In the " Diary of the Defence of Lucknow " by a
staff officer, p. 170, it is stated that, some time be
fore the y8th Highlanders (which was fighting its
way slowly up the streets a few miles away) reached
the Residency, several of the besieged thought they
heard musketry in the distance, " and the sound was
listened to with the most intense and painful anx
iety by the garrison." Later in the day another
distant cannonade was heard. " This elicited many
and divers opinions, and created the greatest pos
sible excitement." Is it not clear that, on this or
just such another occasion after it, the incident
related of the Scotch woman, with such circum
stantial detail and verisimilitude, was just the kind
of thing likely to happen? Is there anything in the
lady's narrative (which furnished the text of the
poem) that looks like fiction ? Does it not bear the
stamp of artless truth in every word and line ? Fi
nally (to finish up the Calcutta fellow), let me prick
the wind out of his assertion that no letter
could have reached Calcutta in the time implied by
the date of the French physician's letter to Paris.
Now, the distance from Lucknow to Calcutta is
given in the gazetteers as less than 564 miles ;
the relief of the garrison occurred on September 26;
the date of M. de Banneroi's letter is October 8;
this gives fourteen days for the letter-courier, travel
ing less than the paltry distance of forty miles a
day, over roads smooth as a floor, to reach Calcutta
Anything impossible in that ?

262 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

We will close this chapter with some remarks on
one other ballad of Whittier's, the accuracy of which
has been challenged.

Besse, in his " Sufferings of the Quakers," tells us
that the person chiefly instrumental in procuring
from Charles II. the letter, styled by Whittier the
King's Missive, which prohibited further severe
punishment of Quakers in Massachusetts, and re
quired the Governor to send culprits to England for
trial, was Edward Burroughs. It is said that Bur
roughs was had to the King while he was playing
tennis out of doors. Seeing that the Quaker kept
his hat on, the King gracefully removed his plumed
hat and bowed. " Thee need'st not remove thy hat,"
said Burroughs. " Oh," replied his Majesty, " it is
of no consequence, only that when the King and an
other gentleman are talking together it is usual for
one of them to take off his hat." Burroughs told the
King that there was " a vein of innocent blood
opened in his dominions, which, if it were not stopt,
might overrun all." Charles replied, "But I will stop
that vein." It was presently arranged, then, that a
certain Samuel Shattuck should be the bearer of a
letter to America. He sailed with a Friend named
Ralph Goldsmith, and arrived in Boston Harbor on
a Sunday in the latter part of November, 1661.

''The townsmen," says Besse, " seeing a ship with
English colours, soon came on board and asked for
the Captain. Ralph Goldsmith told them he was the
Commander. They asked whether he had any letters.
He answered, l Yes.' But withal told them he would
not deliver them that day. So they returned on
shore again, and reported that there were many

Quakers come, and that Samuel Shattuck (who they
knew had been banished on pain of death) was
among them. But they knew nothing of his errand
or authority. Thus all was kept close, and none of
the ship's company suffered to go on shore that day.
Next morning Ralph Goldsmith, the Commander,
with Samuel Shattuck, the King's deputy, went on
shore, and, sending the boat back to the ship, they
two went directly through the town to the Gover-
nour's house, and knockt at the door: he sending a
man to know their business, they sent him word that
their message was from the King of England, and
that they would deliver it to none but himself. Then
they were admitted to go in, and the Governour came
to them, and commanded Samuel Shattuck's hat to
be taken off, and having received the deputation and
the mandamus, he laid off his own hat; and order
ing Shattuck's hat to be given him again, perused
the papers, and then went out to the Deputy-Gov-
ernour's, bidding the King's deputy and the master
of the ship to follow him : being come to the
Deputy-Governour, and having consulted him, he
returned to the aforesaid two persons and said,
( We shall obey his Majesty's command.' After
this the master of the ship gave liberty to his
passengers to come on shore, which they did,
and had a religious meeting with their friends of
the town, where they returned praises to God
for his mercy manifested in this wonderful deliver
ance."

After the appearance of the poem by Mr. Whittier,
based on this narrative, in the " Memorial History of
Boston," Mr. George E. Ellis attempted, unsuccess-

264 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

fully, to prove that the treatment of the subject by
the poet was historically inaccurate. He affirmed
that 'there was no releasing of imprisoned Quakers,
since none were held in custody at that time, and
that a meeting for praise and thanksgiving would
not have been allowed.

Mr. Whittier, in reply, said that it was not easy to
be strictly accurate in every detail of a ballad; yet in
"The King's Missive " he believed he had preserved
with tolerable correctness the spirit, tone, and color
of the incident and its time. He quotes from Besse
the very order of the Court addressed to William
Salter, the jailer, ordering the release of the Quakers.
As to the meeting of Friends for jubilation, Mr.
Whittier might have referred to the passage in Besse
which I have just cited for proof that there was such
a meeting, and he does quote from the journal of
George Fox the statement that " the passengers in
the ship and the Friends in the town met together,
and offered up praise and thanksgiving to God, who
had so wonderfully delivered them out of the teeth
of the devourer," and that, while they were thus met,
" in came a poor Friend, who, being sentenced by
their bloody law to die, had lain some time in irons,
expecting execution."

In view of these facts, Mr. Whittier very justly
says that he sees no reason to rub out any of the fig
ures or alter the lines and colors of the poem. He
admits that the interview took place at the Gover
nor's residence, and not in the town hall, as the poem
has it, but thinks, with Mr. Justin Winsor, that this
variation from the facts is a fair poetic license.

The lines,

"TELLING THE BEES," AND OTHER BALLADS. 265

" He had shorn with his sword the cross from out
The flag,"

are the poetical statement of an historical event
which is thus dramatically worked out by Hawthorne
in his story of " Endicott and the Red Cross " :—

" Endicott gazed round at the excited counte
nances of the people, now full of his own spirit, and
then turned suddenly to the standard-bearer, who
stood close behind him.

" * Officer, lower your banner ! ' said he.

"The officer obeyed; and, brandishing his sword,
Endicott thrust it through the cloth, and with his
left hand rent the red cross completely out of the
banner. He then waved the tattered ensign above
his head.

" * Sacrilegious wretch ! ' cried the High Church
man in the pillory, unable longer to restrain him
self, ' thou hast rejected the symbol of our holy
religion! '

"'Treason, treason!' roared the royalist in the
stocks. ' He hath defaced the King's banner ! '

" ' Before God and man I will avouch the deed,'
answered Endicott. * Beat a flourish, drummer ! —
shout, soldiers and people ! — in honor of the ensign
of New England. Neither Pope nor Tyrant hath
part in it now ! '

" With a cry of triumph, the people gave their
sanction to one of the boldest exploits which our his
tory records."

The poet has also wrought into the texture of his
rich tapestry a pretty little picture of old Nicholas
Upsall. Amid the hootings of the rabble that fol
lowed the joyful Quakers about the streets —

266 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

" One brave voice rose above the din.

Upsall, gray with his length of days,
Cried from the door of his Red Lion Inn :
' Men of Boston, give God the praise ! ' '

Upsall was at that time an aged and highly
respectable citizen of Boston, a member of the Puri
tan church. For showing kindness to the Quakers —
such as having the spot on the Common where the
martyred Quakers were buried surrounded by a
fence — he was fined, banished, and, on his return,
imprisoned for several years, until the hardships he
had endured finally broke down his health. Besse
says that the old man, when banished, went to Rhode
Island in the winter, where he received hospitality
from an Indian chief, who said, if he would stay with
him, he would build him a warm home. Said the
Indian, " What a god have the English who deal so
cruelly with one another about their god ! "

Upsall's Red Lion Inn stood on what is now the
corner of North and Richmond Streets and near the
old Red Lion Wharf, North Street being then the
shore-line of the city, and corresponding to the mod
ern Atlantic Avenue. Upsall's granddaughter mar
ried one of the Wadsworth ancestors of the poet
Longfellow. This Wadsworth was a gunsmith, and
his sign may still be seen imbedded in a brick wall
on the site of Red Lion Inn.

The " much-scourged Wharton " of the " King's
Mis'sive" is Edward Wharton of Salem, the same
"aged stranger" who was sheltered by Thomas
Macey, as described in Whittier's " Exiles."

" Snow Hill " is the Copp's Hill of later times, and

'• TELLING THE BEES," AND OTHER BALLADS. 267

on it stood the principal windmill of the town. " Gen
try Hill " is now Beacon Hill.

The jail that held the imprisoned Friends stood on
the site of the present Old Court House, — the scene
of the attempted rescue of Anthony Burns in anti-
slavery times. The "Council Chamber" was in the
Town House on the site of the present Old State
House.

" The Xeck " means the long ligature of land by
which the city once " hung to the mainland" at Rox-
bury : it has now been incorporated into a vast area
of *• made" land.

Readers of New England poets living in other
parts of the country need to be reminded that " wal
nut " in New England means hickory-nut, and not
the dumpling-like nut with the black undivided hull
which is known as walnut in the West and South.

CHAPTER VI.

STORIES IN RHYME.

WHILE I have attempted to show that there is a
sound historical basis for all the ballads discussed in
the preceding chapter, I would not be understood as
maintaining that Whittier in his rhymed stories has
not taken advantage of poetical license in the work
ing out of details. On the contrary, he has oftener
than most poets given pictures discrepant with the
bare historical facts. As Lowell sings of him, —

" Let his mind once get head in its favorite direction,
And the torrent of verse bursts the dams of reflection,
While, borne with the rush of the metre along,
The poet may chance to go right or go wrong,
Content with the whirl and delirium of song."

But it is the privilege of the raconteur to embellish
his verse with the flowers of imagination, and the
strict accuracy of the historian is not always required
of the poet or the painter.

Let no one think that, in giving in the succeeding
pages the authentic prose source of Whittier's most
interesting idyls and ballads, I am actuated by any
impertinent desire to make manifest wherein the
poet has or has not followed the precise facts of
his text. On the contrary, in glancing behind the
268

STORIES IN RHYME. 269

scenes at the apparatus by which he has produced
his tableaux, the object mainly has been to show how
genius can glorify the baldest material and by a skill
ful mise en sdne turn it into an immortal work of art.
The scene of Whittier's poem "The Cry of a Lost
Soul " is laid in the great tropical forest-belt of
South America. The traveler's canoe is floating down
the Amazon by night; the lamp burns dimly at the
prow; vast submerged forests, intertwined with giant
lianas and filled with animal life, stretch wide on
either hand; and overhead sparkle the brilliant con
stellations of the tropics. Suddenly a cry, " as of the
pained heart of the wood," startles the gliding dream
ers, the half-naked Indian at the oar crosses himself
and exclaims, "A lost soul! No, Seiior, not a bird.
I know it well." But the voyager lifts his eyes to the
stars, and lo! "the Cross of pardon lights the tropic
skies": —

" ' Father of all ! ' he urges his strong plea,
' Thou lovest all : thy erring child may be
Lost to himself, but never lost to Thee ! ' '

I have already stated that this poem was a favorite
with the late Emperor of Brazil, who translated
it into Portuguese. He also sent to the poet some
specimens of the bird whose note suggested the poem.
The myth was found by the poet in Lieutenant Will
iam L. Herndon's Government Report on the Explo
ration of the Amazon in 1853 (ist ed., Chap. III.).
Says Lieutenant Herndon:—

"After we had retired to our mats beneath the
shed for the night, I asked the governor if he knew
a bird called La Alma Perdida. He did not know it

270 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

by that name, and requested a description. I whistled
an imitation of its notes; whereupon an old crone,
stretched on a mat near us, commenced, with ani
mated tones and gestures, a story in the Inca lan
guage, which, translated, ran somehow thus: —

"An Indian and his wife went out from the village
to work their chacra, carrying their infant with them.
The woman went to the spring to get water, leaving
the man in charge of the child, with many cautions
to take good care of it. When she arrived at the
spring, she found it dried up, and went farther to
look for another. The husband, alarmed at her long
absence, left the child and went in search. When
they returned, the child was gone; and to their re
peated cries, as they wandered through the woods in
search, they could get no response save the wailing
cry of this little bird heard for the first time, whose
notes their anxious and excited imaginations syl
labled into pa-pa, ma-ma (the present Quichua name
of the bird). I suppose the Spaniards heard this
story, and, with that religious poetic turn of thought
which seems peculiar to this people, called the bird
'The Lost Soul.'

" The circumstances under which the story was
told," continues Lieutenant Herndon, — "the beauti
ful, still starlight night, the deep dark forest around,
the faint-red glimmering of the fire, flickering upon
the old woman's gray hair and earnest face as she
poured forth the guttural tones of the language of a
people now passed away, — gave it a sufficiently
romantic interest to an imaginative man."

The dense forests of the tropics are full of mysteri
ous sounds. Sometimes in the midst of deep silence

STORIES IN RHYME. 271

a piercing yell or scream is heard, and at times the
sound of an iron bar struck against a hard hollow
tree. The natives turn pale and cross themselves
when these unaccountable noises are heard. The
songs of many of the birds have a pensive mysterious
character. For example, the Goatsucker's startling
cry of hopeless sorrow — " Ha, ha, ha, ha! " or the Sin
ghalese Devil Bird's magnificent clear shout, ending
in "an appalling cry like that of a boy in torture
whose screams are being stopped by strangulation";
or the human-like singing of the Realejo, or Organ
Bird; or the sweet minute-tolls of the snow-white
Campanero, whose pendulous, feather-covered crest,
connected with the palate, is a spiral tube capable of
being inflated at pleasure. It is said that any of
these weird sounds will fill the soul of the traveler
with a strange poetic thrill, at once poignant and
awesome.

Mr. Whittier's studies in Norse literature have
borne fruit in several ballads, the prettiest of which
is his free rendering of Christian Winther's " Henrik
and Else " under the title " King Volmer and Elsie."
He undoubtedly had his attention drawn to the poem
by the somewhat close translation of his friends the
Howitts, given in the second volume of their " Litera
ture and Romance of Northern Europe." Whittier
knows nothing of Danish (nor, indeed, of any other
foreign language, — except that he has a school smat
tering of French and Latin); and we are therefore to
regard " King Volmer and Elsie " as a poetical para
phrase of the Howitts' translation. To see what
magical work the genius of a true poet can produce,

272 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

compare the following prosaic stanzas by the How-
itts with Whittier's poem: —

" ' Nay, nay, my noble Lord ! I speak the truth to you :
She only loves her Henrik, and to him will be true.
Pure as the slender lily will she, my Else, prove,
Though she has fired your bosom with such a flame of love.'

" ' My brave good man, to-morrow it is again a day;
Then will I woo your daughter and win her as I say.'
Thus spoke the wily Lord and looked upon the ground.
The other Lords smiled to themselves as they stood listen
ing round.

" When sang the summer lark o'er the town of Vording-

borough,
And the weathercock shone golden in the fresh dawn of the

morrow ;

When the cool and gentle breeze came wafting o'er the corn,
Were heard amid the leafy wood the sounds of hound and

horn.

" Sweet Else sate so calmly her father's door beside,
All busy at her wheel, and round her blossomed wide
The tulip and the peony, the box and mint so rare ;
But the maiden was the fairest of all the flowers there.

" Her fair form was attired in a dark blue woolen gown,
And the sleeves of snow-white linen unto her wrists came

down;

And busily and rapidly her little foot turned round
The ever-whirling wheel with its cheerful humming sound.

" The humming-bee flew by, the sun shone bright and warm,
When she raised her head and shaded the sunshine with her

arm ;

A troop of gallant hunters came on with thundering speed,
Over hill and hollow, and right across the mead.

STORIES IN RHYME. 273

" Each rider was apparelled in all his best array,
Yet still was he the fairest who rode the charger gray.
He glittered like the sun amid that splendid train ;
She stopped her busy wheel and he checked his charger's rein.

" ' 'Mong roses here thou sittest, thyself a rose so fair,
Sweet Else, I have loved thee, yet all were unaware.'
Then bowed that modest maiden, and cast to earth her eye,
For bashfulness and terror she was about to die."

That last line is much more dramatic and truer to
nature than Whittier's,—

" She dropped a lowly courtesy of bashfulness and fear."

Indeed, it must be admitted that the strong simpli
city of the Dane's old-ballad style is considerably
weakened by the diffusive paraphrase of the Amer
ican, in many stanzas, just as the prose of the " Morte
d'Arthur " is weakened by Tennyson. The gain,
however, in each case, lies in the increased delicacy
of the limning, to say nothing of the melody, — as, for
example, in the two following stanzas by Whittier: —

" In the garden of her father little Elsie sits and spins,
And, singing with the ear.ly birds, her daily task begins.
Gay tulips bloom and sweet mint curls around her garden-
bower,
But she is sweeter than the mint and fairer than the flower.

" About her form her kirtle blue clings lovingly, and, white
As snow, her loose sleeves only leave her small round wrists

in sight ;

Below the modest petticoat can only half conceal
The motion of the lightest foot that ever turned a wheel."

The Volmer of the poem is King Valdemar IV.,
18

274 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

surnamed Atterdag. It was a frequent saying of his,
Morgen er after en Dag, — " To-morrow is again a day."
Valdemar suffered from an unfaithful wife, whom he
put away. Other stories of him may be found in
Thorpe's " Northern Mythology."

Christian Winther was the son of a clergyman,
and himself studied theology. He died in Paris.
Schweitzer, in his recent " Geschichte der Altskandi-
navischen Litteratur," says that Winther " is unique
in the beauty and melody of his verse and the tender
ness and animation of his diction." His special field
was Zealand peasant life in its romantic and idyllic
aspects. He is spoken of as " der Sanger der danischen
meerbespulten Inselnatur." He once said that crea
tion was with him purely spontaneous : " I have never
striven for a direct object. ... I consider myself
as the passive agent of a higher Power, as an instru
ment that is played upon by the hands of the Uncon
scious." Schweitzer translates into German a pretty
poem of his describing a summer night's storm : —
" Kanarienvoglein schlaft im Bauer,

Es piepst ganz sacht der kleine Wicht,

Und nur die Uhr dort an der Mauer

Ihr unermiidlich Tik-Tak spricht,

Ans Fenster Regengiisse schlagen,

Durch Baum und Strauch die Windsbraut fliegt ;

Die Blume trinkt rnit Wohlbehagen,

Und leise sich im Grase wiegt."

The story of the building of a church by the aid
of a powerful Troll is wide-spread in Scandinavian
countries. The essentials of the narrative followed
by Mr. Whittier in his " Kallundborg Church " appear
in Thorpe's " Northern Mythology," as follows : —

STORIES IN RHYME. 275

When Esbern Snare was building Kallundborg
church, the work did not go forward as fast as he
wished. So he accepted the offer of a Troll to help
him : —

" ' Build, O Troll, a church for me
At Kallundborg by the mighty sea ;
Build it stately, and build it fair,
Build it quickly,' said Esbern Snare."

The Troll agreed, on condition that he should tell
him his name when he was through, or forfeit his
heart and eyes. Esbern accepted the terms, and the
work went bravely on. One day, when all was
finished except one pillar, Esbern Snare was wander
ing disconsolate in the fields, and, chancing to lie
down on UlshOi Banke to rest, he heard a Troll-wife
within the earth say, " Be still, my child ; to-morrow
Fin thy father will come and give thee Esbern Snare's
eyes and heart to play with." (This is the English
of the motto prefixed to Whittier's poem.) Esbern
returned home overjoyed, and saluted the Troll by
name, which so enraged him that in spite he imme
diately vanished with the remaining half-pillar in
his arms.

Trolls always lose their power when a Christian
man calls them by name. The above legend is told
of St. Olaf and his building the first church in Norway,
and of the building of the cathedral of Lund, opposite
Copenhagen, by St. Lawrence. Kallundborg church
still stands in the town of that name on the west
coast of Seeland, its five towers rendering it a con
spicuous mark for miles around. The legend appears
also in Jon Arnason's collections of Icelandic folk
tales under the title, "Who built Reynir Church?"

276 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

In the Icelandic version the forfeit is the builder's
son. The Troll-wife sings, —

" Soon will thy father come from Reynir,
Bringing a little playmate for thee here."

The farmer-builder runs home and says to his work
man, " Well done, friend Finnur ! how soon you have
finished your work ! " The Troll lets fall the plank
he is holding, and vanishes.

In Whittier's ballad " The Brown Dwarf of Riigen "
he has just hit the plain simplicity of style of the
genuine folk-ballads. He took only the main idea
from Arndt's Mdrchen, and seems to have relied on
memory for the rest, there being little correspondence
in the details of the poem and the unusually pretty
prose folk-tale. This fills sixty small pages in Arndt,
under the title of " The Nine Hills of Rambin." The
story goes that these hills were formed by a giant
spilling earth out of a rent in his apron, as he was
going to bridge over the chasm that separates the
Isle of Riigen from the mainland of Pomerania.
Under the hills now dwell the brown little earth-men,
the Trolls. Johann Dietrich (not Deitrich as Whit-
tier has it), the hero of the tale, is an enterprising
peasant lad who goes out at midnight to listen for
the Trolls, and secures one of their little caps adorned
with a tinkling bell. The loss of his cap by a Troll
compels him and all his tribe to serve the finder to
the utmost of their power. When Dietrich clapped
the cap on his own head, it revealed to him the little
men who were before only audible, not visible. By
warrant of his cap he becomes master of the hill-folk,
is drawn down by them to their realm, through a

STORIES IN RHYME. 277

glass door, by chains fastened to a great silver barrel.
He lives in great magnificence there ten years, going
to school and learning to dance wondrous well and
to make little silver flowers and fruits of exquisite
designs. He falls in love with a sweet maiden, Lis-
beth, who was stolen away by the Trolls from the
same village that he lived in. By the law of the
unterirdischc fellows she, with other children they
have stolen, is to stay there fifty years as their ser
vant; but Dietrich one day happens to split a crystal
in which is a living toad, The dwarfs abhor a toad
so unutterably that they are completely at the mercy
of him who holds one near them, and are thrown
into convulsions before they even see it. In virtue of
the toad-find, the lovers and the other youths get
away with several wagonloads of gold and silver
treasure, besides the library and rich furniture of
Dietrich's room.

" They left the dreadful under-land and passed the gate of

glass ;

They felt the sunshine's warm caress, they trod the soft
green grass."

All march down the mountain in the early morn
ing, and enter in procession the village of Rambin,
stared at and followed by the wondering peasants.
The story ends with the happy marriage of Dietrich
and Lisbeth.

" And for his worth ennobled, and rich beyond compare,
Count Deitrich and his lovely bride dwelt long and happy
there."

Probably not one reader in twenty thousand of
Whittier's has ever seen his early poem "Moll Pit
cher." The two copies which I had the luck to dis-

278 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

cover had evidently lain undisturbed for fifty-seven
years. The poem is by no means worthless, although
it is not worth reprinting as a whole. It is in part
suffused with a delicate poetical glow which later was
to burst into the fierce flame of the poems of freedom.
The motto is from old Cornelius Agrippa, the German
astrologer : " If the seeker be of an haute and stom-
achful carriage, and maketh merrie of the wisdom of
thine art, thou mayest gain an empery over his orgu
lous and misbelieving spirit, by some full strange and
terrible misterie, or cunning device, whereat he may
be amort with doleful misgivings." Whittier remarks
in a prefatory note that the poem " is the offspring of
a few weeks of such leisure as is afforded by indis
position, and is given to the world in all its original
negligence." He playfully says that it is not pub
lished for poetical reputation nor for money, and
thinks it would puzzle the French cook who made
fifty different dishes out of a parsnip to make meat or
drink out of a poetical reputation. He changed
his mind later in life ; when, for example, Robert
Bonner's Sons sent him a cheque for $1,000 for his
little ballad " The Captain's Well," published in the
" Ledger " in 1890.

The Moll Pitcher of the poem must not be con
founded with the gunner Moll of Revolutionary fame.
The two were contemporary ; the fortune-teller of
Nahant died in 1813. Whittier's sketch of her is a
piece of pure fancy and bears very little resemblance
to the reality. She was no withered and malignant
hag, but a kind, humane woman, of striking presence
and intellectual features, and of respectable family.
She had married a poor man, and adopted fortune-

STORIES IN RHYME. 279

telling for the purpose of supporting her son and
three daughters, and through her exertions they were
enabled to make good marriages. Among her descend
ants are some of the handsomest women in Lynn.
Her fame as a fortune-teller spread all over the globe
wherever an American ship sailed. The well-worn
path up the rocks to her cottage was trod by the feet
of sailors, merchants, lovers, adventurers of every
sort, and people in search of lost or stolen goods.
Upham, in his Lectures on Witchcraft, says that she
was " the most celebrated fortune-teller, perhaps, that
ever lived," and it is thought that her predictions
influenced the destinies of thousands of persons. In
her day many a vessel was known to lie idly at the
wharf for weeks, deserted of its superstitious crew in
consequence of her adverse predictions. " An air of
romance is breathed around the scenes where she
practised her mystic art, the charm of which will
increase as the lapse of time removes her history back
toward the dimness of the distant past. Her name has
everywhere become the generic title of fortune-tellers^
and occupies a conspicuous place in the legends and
ballads of popular superstition."

Mary Pitcher's maiden name was Dimond. Her
father was captain of a small sailing-vessel of Marble-
head. She inherited her gifts of clairvoyance and
fortune-telling from her grandfather, who, the legend
goes, used to pace up and down in the churchyard
during violent storms and direct the course of ships
attempting to make the harbor. His voice was always
audible to the crew, no matter how far off they might
be.1

1 Hobbs's " Lynn and its Surroundings," 1886.

280 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

For fifty years the " witch of Nahant " (so called)
dwelt in her little cottage under the shadow of High
Rock, on what was then a lonely road, but is now
Pearl Street in a thickly inhabited part of the city.
The house still stands, the prospect is a fine one,
embracing a view of rocky Marblehead, the beaches
of Chelsea and Nahant, and " the islands sleeping
like green-winged sea-birds in the distant bay of Bos
ton." Over the gateway of the house opposite hers,
in her lifetime, were the jaw-bones of a whale, form
ing a Gothic arch, and sea-faring strangers who
wished to consult her were often heard furtively
inquiring the way to the big whalebones.

Whittier's portrait of Moll Pitcher was painted in
the land of dream : —

" She stood upon a bare, tall crag

Which overlooked her rugged cot —
A wasted, gray and meagre hag,

In features evil as her lot.
She had the crooked nose of a witch,

And a crooked back and chin ;
And in her gait she had a hitch,
And in her hand she carried a switch

To aid her work of sin, —
A twig of wizard hazel, which
Had grown beside a haunted ditch."

The notes to his poem show that he had only read
Upham's two pages about the fortune-teller. The
true portrait lay ready to his hand in Lewis's History
of Lynn (1817), and would have furnished a richer
material to the flame of that ardent young fancy of
his. Moll Pitcher was of medium height (says Lewis,
who knew her), good form, and agreeable manners,

STORIES IN RHYME. 281

her forehead broad and full, hair dark brown, nose
inclining to long, face pale and thin and rather intel
lectual. " She had that contour of face and expres
sion which, without being positively beautiful, is
nevertheless decidedly interesting, — a thoughtful,
pensive, and sometimes downcast look, almost
approaching to melancholy — an eye, when it looked
at you, of calm and keen penetration — and an expres
sion of intelligent discernment, half mingled with a
glance of shrewdness." Mrs. Pitcher was of a benev
olent disposition, as I have said, and she was once
known to rise before day and walk two miles to a mill
to get a destitute woman meal for her breakfast.

As to the source of her power, it clearly lay in her
canny native shrewdness in reading character and in
that indescribable mind-reading or soul-piercing
faculty called genius which she possessed. She
would usually, or always, enter into conversation
with her visitors, and, having got her clew, make her
prediction. Her visible apparatus of divination — a
cup into which she poured tea or coffee, for the pur
pose of seeing how the dregs arranged themselves —
was of course only a simulated assistance, a sop to
the credulous.

The legend of Whittier's poem is of a maiden
whose sailor lover had gone on a long voyage in
order to get rich and come back and marry her. In
his absence her mind becomes filled with gloomy
forebodings, and she goes up the rocky path to the
witch's cottage to consult her. Now the hag
cherishes a secret enmity against her, and determines
to have her revenge. The poem opens in a curious
way: —

282 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

" Ha, ha— ha, ha— ha, ha !—

The old witch laughed outright —
Ha, ha— ha, ha — ha, ha ! —

That cold and dismal night
The wind was blowing from the sea
As raw and chill as wind might be, —
Driving the waves, as if their master,
Towards the black shore, fast and faster,—
Tossing their foam against the rocks

Which scowl along yon island's verge,
And shake their gray and mossy locks

Secure above the warring surge.

" Keen blew the wind, and cold,

The moon shone dim and faintly forth.
******
And now and then a wan star burned,
Where'er its cloudy veil was rended —
A moment's light, but seen and ended,
As if some angel from on high
Had fixed on earth his brilliant eye,
And back to heaven his glances turned! "

The maiden meets the fortune-teller on the path to
her house.

" The twain passed in — a low dark room,

With here and there a crazy chair,
A broken glass — a dusty loom —
A spinning-wheel, a birchen broom,

The witch's courier of the air,
As potent as that steed of wings

On which the Meccan prophet rode
Above the wreck of meaner things

Unto the Houris' bright abode.
A low dull fire by flashes shone
Across the gray and cold hearthstone,

STORIES IN RHYME. 283

Flinging at times a trembling glare
On the low roof and timbers bare.

" In contrast strange,
Within the fire-light's fading range
The stranger stands in maiden pride,
By that mysterious woman's side.
The cloak hath fallen from her shoulder^

Revealing such a form as steals
Away the heart of the beholder

As, all unconsciously, it kneels
Before the beauty which had shone
Ere this upon its dreams alone.
If you have seen a summer star,
Liquidly soft and faintly far,
Beaming a smiling glance on earth
As if it watched the flowret's birth,
Then have you seen a light less fair
Than that young maiden's glances were.
Dark fell her tresses. You have seen

A rent cloud tossing in the air,
And showing the pure sky between

Its floating fragments here and there:
Then may you fancy faintly how
The falling tress, the ringlike curl,
Disclosed or shadowed o'er the brow

And neck of that fair girl.
Her cheek was delicately thin,

And through its pure transparent white
The rose-hue wandered out and in,

As you have seen th' inconstant light

Flush o'er the Northern sky of night.
Her playful lip was gently full,

Soft curving to the graceful chin,
And colored like the fruit which glows
Upon the sunned pomegranate boughs ;

284 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

And, oh, her soft-low voice might lull

The spirit to a dream of bliss,
As if the voices sweet and bland
Which murmur in the seraph-land

Were warbling in a world like this !

" Out spoke the witch : ' I know full well

Why thou hast sought my humble cot.
Come, sit thee down : the tale I tell

May not be soon forgot.'
She threw her pale blue cloak aside,

And stirred the whitening embers up,
And long and curiously she eyed

The figures of her mystic cup ;
And low she muttered, while the light
Gave to her lips a ghastlier white,
And her sunk eye's unearthly glaring
Seemed like the taper's latest flaring :
' Dark hair — eyes black — a goodly form —

A maiden weeping — wild dark sea —
A tall ship tossing in the storm —

A black wreck floating — where is he?
Give me thy hand : how soft and warm

And fair its tapering fingers seem !

And who that sees it now would dream
That winter's snow would seem less chill
Erelong than these soft fingers will?
A lovely palm, how delicate

Its veined and wandering lines are drawn I
Yet each are prophets of thy fate, —

Ha ! this is sure a fearful one f.
That sudden cross — that blank beneath, —

What may these evil signs betoken ?
Passion and sorrow, fear and death, —

A human spirit crushed and broken!
Oh, thine hath been a pleasant dream,
But darker shall its waking seem ! ' "

STORIES IN RHYME. 285

The words of the fortune-teller were like the icy
hand of death upon the maiden's heart: —

"Like the mimosa shrinking from

The blight of some familiar finger —
Like flowers which but in secret bloom,

Where aye the sheltering shadows linger,
And which beneath the hot noon ray
Would fold their leaves and fade away, —
The flowers of Love, in secret cherished,
In loneliness and silence nourished,

Shrink backward from the searching eye,
Until the stem whereon they flourished,
Their shrine, the human heart, has perished,
Although themselves may never die."

The girl becomes mildly insane, and is always
standing on the rocky headland of Nahant watching
for the ship of her lover. One day it comes sailing
into the bay, with the beloved one aboard. At first
she does not recognize him, but gradually her reason
returns. After many years the witch dies miserably
in her hut, attended in her last illness by the daughter
of the woman she once so deeply wronged.

The opening lines of Part Two are certainly finer
than many a poem which the poet has retained in his
works: —

" Nahant, thy beach is beautiful ! —

A dim line through the tossing waves,
Along whose verge the spectre gull

Her thin and snowy plumage laves,
What time the summer's greenness lingers

Within thy sunned and sheltered nooks,
And the green vine with twining fingers

Creeps up and down thy hanging rocks.

286 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

Around, the blue and level main ;

Above, a sunshine rich as fell
Brightening of old with golden rain

The isle Apollo loved so well ; —
And far off, dim and beautiful,
The snow-white sail and graceful hull,

Slow dipping to the billow's swell.
Bright spot ! the Isles of Greece may share
A flowery earth, a gentle air ;
The orange-bough may blossom well
In warm Bermuda's sunniest dell ;
But fairer shores and brighter waters,
Gazed on by purer, lovelier daughters,

Beneath the light of kindlier skies,
The wanderer to the farthest bound
Of peopled earth hath never found

Than thine, — New England's Paradise !
Land of the forest and the rock, —

Of dark blue lake and mighty river, —
'Of mountains reared aloft to mock
The storm's career, the lightning's shock,—

My own green land forever ! "

Of the sailor it is said in Part Three, —

"Oh, he hath been a wanderer

Beneath Magellan's moveless cloud,
And where in murmurs hoarse and loud

The Demon of the Cape was heard ;

And where the tropic sunset came

O'er the rich bowers of Indostan,

And many a strange and brilliant bird
Shone brighter in the western flame."

The last lines recall Tennyson's sumptuous imagery
in the apostrophe to Milton, which everyone ought to
have by heart : —

STORIES IN RHYME. 287

" Me rather all that bowery loneliness,
The brooks of Eden mazily murmuring,
And bloom profuse and cedar arches
Charm, as a wanderer out in ocean,
Where some refulgent sunset of India
Streams o'er a rich ambrosial ocean isle,
And crimson-hued the stately palm-woods
Whisper in odorous heights of even."

The idea of Whittier's " Cassandra Southwick"is
worked out also by Longfellow in his " New Eng
land Tragedies," his Edith Christison corresponding
to Whittier's heroine.

Whittier, as usual, has availed himself of poetic
license. His imprisoned Quaker maiden sees the
sunset melt through the prison bars, and across the
floor of her cell falls the quiet light of the stars.
Sleepless she watches, thinking of her schoolmates,
sitting by the warm bright hearth of home, —

" How the crimson shadows tremble on foreheads white and

fair,
On eyes of merry girlhood half hid in golden hair."

With the breaking of the morn, the heavy bolts fall
back, and the sheriff comes and leads her down to
the wharves, where dark and haughty Endicott, and
Rawson, his cruel clerk, ask the sea-captains who of
them will take her away to sell. Grim silence from
the bronzed seamen; she feels the hard hand of one
of them press her own; and a word of encourage
ment is whispered in her ear.

" And when again the sheriff spoke, that voice, so kind to me,
Growled back its stormy answer like the roaring of the sea, —

288 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

" ' Pile my ship with bars of silver, pack with coins of Span
ish gold,

From keel-piece up to deck-plank the roomage of her hold, —
By the living God who made me, I would sooner in your bay
Sink ship and crew and cargo than bear this child away ! '

******

" I looked on haughty Endicott, with weapon half-way drawn ;
Swept round the throng his lion glare of bitter hate and

scorn;

Fiercely he drew his bridle-rein, and turned in silence back,
And sneering priest and baffled clerk rode murmuring in his
track."

Whittier found the quarry for his poem in the books
of George Bishop and Joseph Besse. Bishop's book,
having been published fifty years earlier than Besse's,
may be considered the more trustworthy. With a
poet's true instinct Whittier has chosen the musical
name of Cassandra for his heroine. But in reality it
was Cassandra Southwick's daughter " Provided "
and her son Daniel who were offered for sale. She
herself, with her husband Lawrence, had already
been banished to Shelter Island, and another son
exiled to Europe. Lawrence and Cassandra, "an
aged grave couple " of Salem, cultivators of the soil,
had previously been imprisoned for entertaining two
Quaker preachers. The husband, wife, and son were
stripped in the coldest season of the year and whipped
with a knotted thong of three cords that cruelly cut
their flesh, " the executioner measuring his ground,
and fetching his strokes with all his strength." At
another time they were imprisoned in a dark un-
ventilated room during all of harvest time, when their
crops were suffering.

STORIES IN RHYME. 289

" And now," says Bishop, " I shall declare the exe
cution of your warrant on the said Daniel Southwick
and Provided, whom Edmund Batter (a cruel wicked
man, one fit for your purpose) sent your marshall for,
who fetch'd them accordingly, and sought out for
passage to Barbadoes, to send them there for sale, as
men sell goods, to fill his purse, who was your treas
urer ; but the man to whom he spake would not
carry them on that account (a thing so horrible !),
and one of them, to try Batter, said * that they would
spoil all the vessel's company,' laying that as an argu
ment why he should not carry them. ' Oh, no,' said
Batter, ' you need not fear that, for they are poor
harmless creatures, and will not hurt anybody ' (or
words to this purpose). ' Will they not so ? ' said the
ship-master. 'And will ye offer to make slaves of so
harmless creatures?' So Batter sent them home again
. . . till he could get a convenient opportunity to
send them away."

Another of Mr. Whittier's ballads on Quaker sub
jects is " The Exiles." It is very interesting to see
how, out of a mere word of history and a bit of manu
script, he has built up so long and capital a poem.
Thomas Macey was far from being the brave man he
is represented to be in the verses, as the following
from his humble and deprecatory letter to the Gen
eral Court proves: —

"On a rainy morning there came to my house Ed
ward Wharton and three men more. The said Whar-
ton spoke to me, saying that they were traveling
eastward, and desired me to direct them in the way
to Hampton, and asked me how far it was to Casco

2QO JOHN G. WHITTIER.

Bay. I never saw any of ye men afore except Whar-
ton, neither did I require their names, or who they
were, but by their carriage I thought they might be
Quakers, and told them so, and therefore desired
them to passe on their way, saying to them I might
possibly give offence in entertaining them; and as
soone as the violence of the rain ceased (for it rained
very hard) they went away, and I never saw them
since. The time that they stayed in the house was
about three-quarters of an hour, but I can safely
affirme it was not an hour. They spake not many
words in the time, neither was I at leisure to talke
with them, for I came home wet to the skin immedi
ately afore they came to the house, and I found my
wife sick in bed."

Two of the friends harbored by Macey that day
were Robinson and Stevenson, afterwards hanged on
Boston Common. The antiquaries all say that Macey
did not fly from direct persecution. The records of
Salisbury and of the State only show that he sailed
to Nantucket in an open boat, with his family and
two friends, not to escape the paltry fine of thirty
shillings and his admonishment, but at his leisure, in
disgust at the intolerance of the Puritan leaders.
Whittier, in a note to his "Exiles" in the "North
Star" anthology, says that "a quaint description of
Macey's singular and perilous voyage, in his own
handwriting, is still preserved." It is said that during
the voyage a storm arose, and Macey sa4d to his terri
fied wife, " Woman, I fear not the witches on earth,
nor the devils in hell." His place of refuge was Nan-
tucket Island, nurse of great women and brave men,
the birthplace of Lucretia Mott, Maria Mitchell, and

STORIES IN RHYME. 29!

the mother of Benjamin Franklin. The island had
been bought as a place of refuge in 1659 by ten men,
among whom were Whittier's remote kinsmen, Chris
topher Hussey and Stephen " Greenleafe." There
were no other white men on the island when they
came.1

" She came and stood in the Old South Church,

A wonder and a sign,
With a look the old-time sibyls wore,
Half-crazed and half-divine.

Save the mournful sackcloth about her wound,

Unclothed as the primal mother,
With limbs that trembled and eyes that burned

With a fire she dared not smother."

In the poem of which the foregoing are the two
opening stanzas, Mr. Whittier has, with the freedom
permitted to a poet, wrenched the actual facts for a
dramatic end. He makes it appear that the cause of
his heroine's appearing in the Old South Church
clothed in sackcloth was to exhort preacher and peo
ple to religious toleration. But the original accounts
in Besse, including the warrant for her arrest and the
verbatim report of the trial, prove that her object on
that occasion was simply to warn the people of the
coming of the black-pox. But as she had addressed
a petition to the Governor that he would not put in
force th'e " cruel laws" that required oath-taking

1 Mr. Whittier refers his readers to James S. Pike's book on
this incident of Macey. But Pike is only a borrower, and is not
so good as S. J. Macy in his "Genealogy of the Macy Family,"
1868, and Hough, " Nantucket Papers" (Albany, 1856).

2Q2 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

even from Quakers, and since during her trial she
incidentally besought him not to persecute the
Friends for meeting together to worship God after
their own way, the poet was justified in slightly
changing the facts for artistic ends, so as to make the
central idea that of a plea for religious toleration.
The name of the woman was Margaret Brewster. She
had come to Boston from the Barbadoes, perhaps to
collect money due her, — and hence her trouble of mind
about the oath-taking. Her appearance so amazed
and frightened the congregation that it was said sev
eral women were in danger of miscarrying. She was
kept in prison for a month, and then stripped to the
middle, tied to a cart's tail, and whipped up and
down the town, all of which she endured with a forti
tude worthy of a better cause. Her fanatical folly
was, however, well matched by the unmanly cruelty
of the Governor's sentence.

Old Judge Sewall in his Diary (i. 43) makes a
minute of the scene in the church :—

"July 8, 1677. New Meeting House [not the pres
ent Old South, but its predecessor] Mane : In Sermon
time there came in a female Quaker, in a Canvass
Frock, her hair disshevelled and loose like a Periwigg,
her face as black as ink, led by two other Quakers,
and two other followed. It occasioned the greatest
and most amazing uproar that I ever saw. Isaiah
i. 12, 14."

The venerable ex-magistrate William Coddington
wrote to a friend in the Barbadoes as follows : —

RALPH FRETWELL!

Friend,
I have written to thee already concerning the apprehending

STORIES IN RHYME. 393

of Margaret Brewster, and committing her to prison, upon her
going into Thatcher's meeting in sackcloth, with ashes upon
her head, and barefoot, and her face blacked. With her was
Lydia Wright of Long Island, and Sarah Miles and Elizabeth
Bowers, jun., and John Easton, jun., who took her riding-clothes
and shoes when she went into the house.

At the trial the Governor says, —

" Are you the woman that came into Mr. Thatcher's meeting
house with your hair fruzled, and dressed in the shape of a
devil ? "

She replies, —

" I am the woman that came into priest Thatcher's house of
worship with my hair about my shoulders, ashes upon my head,
my face colored black, and sackcloth upon my upper garments."

Another poem commemorating a brave fight for
religious freedom is " Calef in Boston : 1692." Robert
Calef, merchant of Boston, was the author of " More
Wonders of the Invisible World," published to counter
act the influence of Cotton Mather's " Wonders of the
Invisible World," and especially his " Brand Pluckt
from the Burning." The incident that brought the
two men to a clash of arms was the case of Margaret
Rule, a young girl supposed to have been bewitched,
whose experiences are detailed in Mather's " Brand
Pluckt from the Burning." That credulous old
prodigy of learning says in this booklet that " the
devils have with most horrendous operations broke
in upon our neighborhood." Margaret he affirms to
have been " most prodigiously handled by the evil
angels." The enchantments she endured were such
as being stuck with invisible pins, pinched black and
blue, made to swallow brimstone by the devils, and

294 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

drawn up by them to the garret ceiling with such
violence that she could scarcely be drawn down
again by a strong man. She described herself as
being haunted by eight demons led on by a black
Master. Whittier's words, " Your spectral puppet-
play," refer to the pranks of these demons, who would
stand at one side of the room and stick pins into
puppets, or dolls, that she might feel the pain in her
own flesh. And when they were not able to stick the
pins into the " Poppets " she would deride them, where
upon their black Master, in a rage, would strike them
and kick them, " like an overseer of so many negro's,
to make them to do their work."1 The superstition
that persons could be made to suffer by proxy is an
old one. In his " Wonders," Mather tells of the con
sternation of some workmen when they discovered,
in holes in the cellar wall of a house belonging to a
reputed witch, certain " poppets " made up of rags
and hogs' bristles, with headless pins in them, the
points being outward. The delusion is common
among our Southern negroes at the present day.
They make a waxen or dough image of their enemy,
and then pierce it with pins or burn it. To find on
his door-sill, says Cable, a little box containing a
wax heart stuck full of pins, will strike terror to the
heart of a Louisiana negro.

Calef was a man much in advance of his time, —
brave, clear-headed, and liberal. A fac-simile of his
vigorous signature is given in Drake's History of
Boston, p. 568. He was one of those who were bold

1 Calef's work, original ed., 1700, p. 9. Other editions, as Mr.
Deane has shown, are very inaccurate.

STORIES IN RHYME. 295

enough to brave public opinion by having his children
inoculated for the small-pox. He pressed the Mathers
hard, arraigned their methods of extracting informa
tion from Margaret Rule, and was even arrested for
libel by them ; but no prosecutor appeared, and he
was released. His book was burned in the college
yard at Cambridge by President Increase Mather.

It appears from Cotton Mather's " Brand " that
Calef was not the only incredulous person in Boston.
"The learned witlings of the coffee-houses" are
sarcastically described by Mather, who says that, if
anyone would but read one or two little books he
names, he or she could "give a far more intelligible
account of these appearances than most of these
blades can give why and how their tobacco makes
'em spit ; or which way the flame of their candle
becomes illuminating."

It seems to be an indispensable condition of poetical
inspiration with Whittier, in writing a ballad, that
his legend, or story, shall first have been read or
heard by him, and then laid away in his mind.
When it lies dim and somewhat vague in his mem
ory, it assumes the hues of romance ; and at some
happy moment, perhaps after the lapse of years, the
finished poem is detached, like a ripened pear from
its bough. It may be historically accurate or it may
not: as it comes, so it must be; he is only the scribe
to write down what his genius dictates.

Yet it must not be thought that all, or perhaps
any, of the poems of the Essex minstrel have been at
once transferred from the mind to the paper in their
final shape. Many of his poems were first conceived

296 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

in the open air, and jotted down in rough state on
such paper as he might have in his pocket-book.
Mr. Charles E. Hurd, assistant editor of the Boston
" Transcript," has the original MS. of Whittier's " My
Playmate." It is written, with many erasures and
interlineations, on three sides of an old letter.

Whittier's portrait of the Puritan Indian fighter,
John Underhill, in the poem of that name, is con
siderably idealized. The real man bears more re
semblance to Captain Dalgetty, in the " Legend of
Montrose," than to the frail soldier-saint pictured by
our poet. Underhill was banished from the Massa
chusetts Colony for making slighting remarks about
the authorities. Some two years before this sentence
of banishment, he had been publicly questioned and
admonished on suspicion of incontinency with a
neighbor's wife.

Underhill retired to the Cocheco settlement in
Maine, where he was made governor. After his de
parture from Boston, proof of his adultery was dis
covered, and he was summoned to appear and stand
his trial. He parleyed and quibbled and hesitated a
long time, but finally appeared one day in 1640, and
after sermon, upon the lecture day, the pastor of the
church gave him leave to speak. The scene that fol
lowed is both amusing and dramatic. It was a spec
tacle that caused many weeping eyes. His penitence
seemed to be sincere; but the piercing eye of Win-
throp detected its superficial nature, notwithstanding
his " blubbering " and sobbing.

" He came," says Winthrop, " in his worst clothes
(being accustomed to take great pride in his bravery
and neatness), without a band, in a foul linen cap

STORIES IN RHYME. 297

pulled close to his eyes; and, standing upon a form,
he did with many deep sighs and abundance of tears
lay open his wicked course." 1

This scene of repentance is by Whittier laid at
Cocheco. Underhill afterwards took service with the
Dutch. The Mantinenoc Indians gave him a hun
dred and fifty acres of land on Long Island, which is
still in the possession of his descendants.

Out of the following bit of bare prose in Mather's
"Magnalia Christi " Whittier has constructed his bal
lad, so rich in picturesque incident, " The Garrison of
Cape Ann" : —

"Now, in the time of that matchless war [made by
" the spirits of the invisible world upon the people of
New England "] there fell out a thing at Gloucester
which falls in here most properly to be related.

"Ebenezer Bapson, about midsummer, in the year
1692, with the rest of his family, almost every night
heard a noise as if persons were going and running
about his house. But one night being abroad late, at
his return home he saw two men come out of his
door, and run from the end of the house into the corn.
But those of the family told him, there had been no
person at all there ; whereupon he got his gun, and
went out in pursuit after them, and coming a little
distance from the house, he saw the two men start up
from behind a log, and run into a little swamp, saying
to each other, The man of the house is come now, else
we might have taken the house. So he heard nor saw
no more of them.

Winthrop's History of Massachusetts, ii. 13.

298 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

" Upon this the whole family got up, and went with
all speed to a garrison nearby ; and being just got
into the garrison, they heard men stamping round the
garrison. Whereupon Bapson took a gun and ran out
and saw two men again running down a hill into a
swamp. The next night, but one, the said Bapson,
going toward a fresh meadow, saw two men which
looked like Frenchmen, one .of them having a bright
gun upon his back, and both running a great pace
towards him, which caused him to make the best of
his way to the garrison, where being come, several
heard a noise as if men were stamping and running
not far from the garrison." 1

After a great deal of shooting, and running, and
missing fire, both on the part of the beleaguered and
the besiegers, the men of the garrison-house, " con
cluding they were but spectres," took little further
notice of them.

The story of " The Swan Song of Parson Avery," as
related by Whittier with his usual latitude, is told by
the Rev. Anthony Thacher in a letter given in Increase
Mather's "Essay for the Recording of Illustrious
Providences." The persons shipwrecked were in all
twenty-three souls, — the two families of the ministers,
a passenger, and four sailors. The island upon which
their pinnace went to pieces is off Cape Ann and the
town of Rockport. It is now a United States light
house station, containing about eighty acres of rocky
soil. It is a pretty trip to visit the lighthouses, as
the writer did recently. You hoist a signal on the

1 First edition, 1702, p. 82.

STORIES IN RHYME. 299

mainland, and one of the keepers will sail or row
over from the island and take you across. The view
is magnificent. The storm in which the ship was
wrecked was of terrible force, overturning houses,
tearing up and twisting off thousands of trees, and
nearly ruining the harvest.

There was in reality no dying song by Parson Avery,
but a deal of praying and pious discourse back and
forth betwixt the poor man and his cousin.

The letter of Thacher is a classic in its kind, and a
few extracts will be appreciated. The style is pure
Greek, and is worthy of Defoe.

" I must turn my drowned pen and shaking hand,"
says he, " to indite the story of such sad news as
never before this happened in New England. There
was a league of perpetual friendship between my
cousin Avery ["note," says Mather, " that this Mr.
Avery was a precious holy minister, who came out of
England with Mr. Anthony Thacher"] and myself
never to forsake each other to the death, but to be
partakers of each other's misery or welfare, as also
of habitation in the same place." They were solicited
to go to Marblehead to become the pastors of the
place, and accordingly set sail from Ipswich, with
their families and substance, in a pinnace. They had
rough weather and were two days in getting around
Cape Ann, when suddenly in a fresh gale their sails,
" being old and done," were split. The anchor slipped,
the storm burst upon them, the ship was beaten
to pieces, and about daylight all were drowned except
Thacher and his wife, who were washed ashore. The
good man, after narrating all these woes, continues:
" I and my wife were almost naked, both of us, and

300 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

wet and cold, even unto death. I found a Knapsack
cast on the shore, in which I had a steel and flint and
powder-horn. Going further I found a drowned goat,
then I found a hat, and my son William's coat, both
which I put on. My wife found one of her petti
coats, which she put on. I found also two cheeses
and some butter, driven ashore. Thus the Lord sent
us some clothes to put on, and food to sustain our new
lives which he had lately given unto us; and means
also to make fire, for in an horn I had some gun
powder, which to my own (and since to other men's)
admiration was dry; so taking a piece of my wife's
neckcloth, which I dried in the sun, I struck fire, and so
dried and warmed our wet bodies, and then skinned
the goat; and having found a small brass pot, we
boiled some of her. Our drink was brackish water;
bread we had none. There we remained until the
Monday following [three days in all]. When about
three of the clock, in the afternoon, in a boat that
came that way, we went off that desolate island,
which I named after my name, Thacher's Woe; and
the rock [on which the vessel split] Avery his Fall:
to the end that their fall and loss and mine own
might be had in perpetual remembrance. In the isle
lieth buried the body of my cousin's eldest daughter,
whom I found dead on the shore."

Winthrop in his Journal says, "The general court
gave Mr. Thatcher £26: 13:4: towards his losses, and
divers good people gave him besides. The man was
cast on shore when he had been (as he supposed)
a quarter of an hour beaten up and down by the
waves, not being able to swim one stroke, and his
wife sitting in the scuttle of the bark, the deck

STORIES IN RHYME. 30!

was broke off and brought on shore as she stuck
in it."

In reading for the sources of this poem, I discovered
that Whittier got its title out of Cotton Mather's
" Magnalia Christi " (I. ii. 3). Speaking of Avery's
prayer, Mather quotes a line—

" Carmina jam Moriens, Canit exequialia Cygnus " —

which had been found in the chair of a Dr. Hottinger
eight days before he was drowned (in Lake Leman,
Switzerland). This Latin line about the song of the
dying swan Mather applies to Avery : " Never forget
the memorable swan-song which Avery, not eight days,
but scarce eight seconds of a minute, before his ex
piration, sang in the ears of heaven."

On July 6, 1724, Rev. Christopher Tappan, of New-
bury, wrote to Cotton Mather the account of a double-
headed snake, or Amphisbsena, from which, as given
in Joshua Coffin's History of Newbury, Whittier got
the materials for his ballad " The Double-headed
Snake of Newbury." Coffin copied it from the orig
inal now in the library of the American Antiquarian
Society at Worcester, and it is found nowhere else in
the literature of the time:—

" Concerning the amphisbsena, as soon as I received
your commands I made diligent enquiry of several
persons, who saw it after it was dead, but they could
give me no assurance of its having two heads, as they
did not strictly examine it, not calling it the least in
question because it seemed as really to have two
heads as one. They directed me for further informa
tion to the person I before spoke of, who was out of

302 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

town, and to the persons who saw it alive and killed
it, which were two or three lads, about twelve or
fourteen, one of which a pert sensible youngster told
me yt one of his mates running towards him cryed
out there was a shake with two heads running after
him, upon which he run to him, and the snake, get
ting into a puddle of water, he with a stick pulled
him out, after which it came towards him, and as he
went backwards or forward, soe the snake would doe
likewise. After a little time, the snake, upon his
striking at him, gathered up his whole body into
sort of a quoil, except both heads, which kept to
wards him, and he distinctly saw two mouths and two
stings (as they are vulgarly called), which stings or
tongues it kept putting forth after the usual manner
of snakes, till he killed it. Thus far the lad. This
day, understanding the person mentioned before
was returned, I went to him, and asked him about
the premises. He told me he narrowly examined
the snake, being brought to him by the lads after
it was dead, and he found two distinct heads, one
at each end, opening each with a little stick, in each
of which he saw a sting or tongue, and that each
head had two eyes. Throwing it down and going
away, upon second thoughts he began to mistrust
his own eyes, as to what he had seen, and there
fore returned a second time to examine it, if pos
sible, more strictly, but still found it as before.
This person is so credible that I can as much
believe him as if I had seen him myself. He tells
me of another man yt examined it as he did, but I
cannot yet meet with him.

" Postscript. Before ensealing I spoke with the

STORIES IN RHYME. 303

other man, who examined the amphisbaena (and
he is also a man of credit), and he assures me yt it had
really two heads, one at each end, two mouths, two
stings or tongues, and so forth."

" Far and wide the tale was told,
Like a snowball growing while it rolled.
The nurse hushed with it the baby's cry ;
And it served, in the worthy minister's eye,
To paint the primitive serpent by.
Cotton Mather came galloping down
All the way to Newbury town,
With his eyes agog and his ears set wide,
And his marvellous inkhorn at his side;
Stirring the while in the shallow pool
Of his brains for the lore he learned at school,
To garnish the story, with here a streak
Of Latin, and there another of Greek :
And the tales he heard and the notes he took,
Behold ! are they not in his Wonder-Book ? "

The last two lines seem to imply that the story of
the snake can be found in the Wonder-Book. But you
will search in vain for it there. There is no gallop
ing down to Newbury in that book; but there are
rich " tales," — such as that of the black creature with
the body of a monkey, the feet of a cock, and the
face of a man, which was going to fly at a certain
man, and when he cried out, " The whole armour of
God be between me and you," it " sprang back, and
flew over the apple-tree; shaking many apples off the
tree in its flying over. At its leap, it flung dirt with
its feet against the stomach of the man."

There is a snake (really a lizard) which is called
the Amphisbaena, but is found only in tropical Amer-

304 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

ica. It actually has the habit of moving backward
or forward at pleasure. The tail is thick and short,
and the eyes of the head so small (it lives mostly
under ground) that it is almost impossible to tell
head from tail. The story of the Newbury Amphis-
baena is as well attested as anything can be, and we
may suppose the creature to have been a mon
strosity of the true snake species, like the two-
headed chickens, calves, etc., which occasionally
occur.

In the " Tent on the Beach" the locality is the mouth
of Hampton River at the northern extremity of Salis
bury Sands. The scene of two of the ballads sung in
the tent of the three friends is also here ; namely, " The
Changeling" and " The Wreck of Rivermouth." In the
latter poem, " the grisly head of the Boar," " the
green bluff" breaking the chain of sand-hills north
ward, refers to the wind-swept and treeless headland
known a§ the Boar's Head. It is a heap of gravel-
drift with bowlders sticking in the sides. " A low
reef, stretching out towards the southeast, resembling
the broken vertebrae of some fabled sea-monster,"
says Drake, " shows in what direction the grand old
headland has most suffered from the unremitting
work of demolition carried on by the waves, which
pour and break like an avalanche over the blackened
bowlders, and fly hissing into the air like the dust
rising from its ruins."

"And Agamenticus lifts its blue

Disk of a cloud the woodlands o'er."

Mount Agamenticus is a bold landmark for sixty

STORIES IN RHYME. 305

miles or more up and down the Atlantic coast. The
mountain rears its huge form almost at the edge of
the sea in Maine. On its summit is said to be buried
Saint Aspenquid, a converted Indian, who, according
to tradition, had wandered all over the continent
preaching the gospel of Christ. Lowell paints Aga-
menticus in his " Pictures. from Appledore": —

" He glowers there to the north of us,
Wrapt in his mantle of blue haze,

*****

Him first on shore the coaster divines
Through the early gray, and sees him shake
The morning mist from his scalp-lock of pines."

The wedge of the Boar's Head, as I saw it in 1890,
was a superb earth-poem, its level surface covered
with grass and flowers, the green lines of the sod
merging into the blue of the sky, — not a discord any
where. To the south, a mile away, are always seen
the Rivermouth Rocks, black and grisly in their gar
ments of sea-weed.

The Goody Cole who figures in " The Changeling "
and in " The Wreck of Rivermouth " was Eunice
Cole of Hampton, New Hampshire, who lived alone
in a little hovel near where the Hampton Academy
now stands. Once when she was imprisoned the
Court ordered a padlocked chain to be attached to
her leg. She died alone in her cottage, and it was
some days before her death was known; whereupon
she was hastily buried, and a stake driven through
her poor body to exorcise the evil spirit. She was as
much feared as was old Susanna Martin, alluded to
in "The Witch's Daughter." Goody Martin lived

20

306 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

near the Old Ferry in Pleasant Valley on the Merri-
mack.

Goody Cole was first prosecuted in 1656; in 1657
occurred the catastrophe described in " The Wreck
of Rivermouth." Whittier puts the two things
together, imagines the shipwreck to have been attrib
uted to the witch, and makes a ballad which for
choice English, perfect melody, and native savor can
scarcely be surpassed. The prose text of the story is
merely this dry paragraph, referred to by the poet
in the " Atlantic Monthly," where the poem first
appeared: —

"A boate going out of Hampton River was cast
away and the psons all drowned who were in number
eight: Em. Hilliar, Jon. Philbrick and An Philbrick
his wife; Sarah Philbrick there daughter; Alice the
wyfe of Moses Cox, and John Cox his sonne, Robert
Read; who all perished in ye sea ye 2oth of the 8 mo.
1657.'"

The convent song of sister Maria in Whittier's
" Hymn of the Dunkers " —

" Wake, sisters, wake ! the day-star shines ;
Above Ephrata's eastern pines
The dawn is breaking, cool and calm.
Wake, sisters, wake to prayer and psalm ! " —

somehow recalls that little snow-tinted poem, Tenny
son's " St. Agnes," —

1 From the " Norfolk County Records," quoted in vol. i., No. 2,
of the " New England Historical and Genealogical Register" (not
vol. ii. , as the printers got it in the " Atlantic ").

STORIES IN RHYME. 307

" Deep on the convent roofs the snows

Are sparkling to the moon," —

a poem of the quality of a diamond or a lily, in which
the sentiment of vestal purity and mediaeval Chris
tianity is embodied in flawless music.

About a hundred years ago there were occasionally
to be seen in the streets of Philadelphia certain
strange foreign-looking persons offering country prod
uce for sale. The men wore no hats, which were
supplanted by the Capuchin hoods of the long white
woolen gowns they wore (belted at the waist). The
women concealed their faces when they walked. The
visages of the men were pale, their beards long and
shaggy, and their hair short. In summer the woolen
dress described was exchanged for one of linen.

These people were Dunkers (or Tunkers, Taeuffer,
i. e. Baptists) from Ephrata in Lancaster County,
Pennsylvania, eleven miles out from Lancaster town.
Their land lay in a beautiful vale between two wood-
crowned hills, a stream flowing through the vale.
The town of Ephrata lay on the southeastern slope
of a little hill. At first the members of the commu
nity dwelt alone, each in a little cottage, that one
might not interrupt the devotions of another. They
were celibates, and of course the women dwelt apart.
If any one married, he or she left the order, but set
tled in the neighborhood. They touched no animal
food, had worship four times a day, and slept at
night upon benches with little wooden blocks for pil
lows (reminds one of the Japanese and Chinese head
rests). The sisters drew beautiful ornamental texts
in Gothic characters (the members of the order spoke
German) to adorn the church walls.

308 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

The Dunkers had their origin in Schartzenau,
Germany. Being frowned upon and shunned there,
they separated from their Pietist brethren and came
to Pennsylvania about 1719. The founder of the
fraternity at Ephrata was Conrad Beissel, whose self-
chosen fraternity name was Friedsam Gottrecht.

About 1738 (the date prefixed to Mr. Whittier's
poem) their life became conventual, and the church
building was converted into a nunnery called Kloster
Kedar,1 another building being erected for the men.
It was now that monastic rules were adopted, and
the Capuchin dress chosen.

The Dunkers denied original sin, reprobated war
and all kinds of violence, and denied eternal punish
ment. Affection was their bond of union. A part of
the title of one of their hymn-books reads, " The
songs of the solitary and forsaken turtle-dove, that
is, the Christian Church, . . . brought into spirit
ual rhymes, by a Peaceable pilgrim wandering to silent
eternity." It is by Friedsam Gottrecht, who puns
upon his Christian name in the italicized word. The
Dunkers, it will be seen, spoke and wrote in a highly
metaphorical, mystical style. These ascetics, in their
ecstatic reveries and fasts, created an imaginary
world, or heaven, wherein their imaginations ran riot.
They believed in a mystical union with the Redeemer:
" He was the little infant they carried under their
hearts, the dear little lamb they dandled on their laps." 2

1 Name chosen in allusion to their agricultural, or pastoral, life,
Kedar being the name of a pastoral tribe descended from Ishmael,
— " the glory of Kedar," " the tents of Kedar," " the flocks of
Kedar."

5 Memoirs of the Historical Society of Pennsylvania for 1827,

STORIES IN RHYME. 309

A Pennsylvania critic of Mr. Whittier affirms that
his sketch of Meister Eckhart, in " The Vision of
Echard," and his " Hymn of the Dunkers," are both
failures as historical studies, the lyrical element over
powering the historical. He thinks a Dunker mystic
would not have singled out Rome and Geneva as the
embodiment of the ecclesiasticism against which he
protested, and says very truly that the sect "founded
by Alexander Mack " never suffered from the
"prison" and "the stake." Whittier catches the
Adventist doctrine of the sect, but misses the mystic
theosophical character of the doctrine as held by
them.

One of the " Tent " poems is a blank-verse piece on
" Abraham Davenport," the text for which was taken
from old Dr. Dwight, of New Haven. "The igth
day of May, 1780," says he, " was a remarkable dark
day. Candles were lighted in many houses ; the
birds were silent and disappeared, and the fowls
retired to roost. The legislature of Connecticut was
then in session at Hartford. A very general opinion
prevailed that the day of judgment was at hand.
The House of Representatives, being unable to trans
act their business, adjourned. A proposal to adjourn
the Council was under consideration. When the
opinion of Colonel Davenport was asked, he answered,
' I am against an adjournment. The day of judg
ment is either approaching or it is not. If it is not,
there is no cause for an adjournment ; if it is, I

ii. 130 ff. This seems to be the sole printed account of this curious
order.

310 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

choose to be found doing my duty. I wish therefore
that candles may be brought.' " *

" And there he stands in memory to this day,
Erect, self-poised, a rugged face, half seen
Against the background of unnatural dark,
A witness to the ages as they pass
That simple duty hath no place for fear."

Abraham Davenport's grandfather was one of the
founders of New Haven, a friend of the Regicides,
Goffe and Whalley, and first suggested the establish
ment of the college now called Yale : he was known
by the Indians as " so big study man."

When Abraham Davenport was well stricken in
years, and, as Chief Justice of the Court of Common
Pleas, was hearing a case at Danbury, the summon
ing hand of death was suddenly laid upon him. But,
firm and unflinching to the last, he refused to leave
the Court until he had given the charge to the jury,
and called their attention to an article in the testi
mony that had escaped the notice of the counsel on
both sides ; he then retired to his home, and was
soon afterward found dead in his bed.

Whittier got the nucleus of his " Bridal of Penna-
cook " from Book I., Chapter XL, of that dry old
chronicle of border wars and Indian history, the
" New English Caanan," written by that dissolute
and jolly Roger Wildrake, Thomas Morton. In this
book Morton gives an account of the May Pole of his
Merry Mount, and the far from innocent festivities
connected with it. For the writing of this book he

'Quoted in Barber's Connecticut Historical Collections, p. 403.

STORIES IN RHYME. 311

was imprisoned for a year by the Puritan authorities,
and fined.

In his "Prophecy of Samuel Sewall " Whittier
speaks of Newbury as Sewall's " native town," but, says
Tyler, Sewall was born at Horton, England. He also
describes Sewall as an " old man," propped on his
staff of age, when he made his famous prophecy; but
Sewall was then forty-five years old. Samuel Sewall
was one of the witchcraft judges, and the author of
the quaint diary recently published. It was said that
his wife — Hannah Hull, daughter of a goldsmith in
Boston — received her own weight in silver pine-tree
shillings as a wedding portion.

" The Golden Wedding of Longwood " was cele
brated in the rich old rural town of Kennett, Chester
County, near Philadelphia : —

" Again before me, with your names, fair Chester's landscape

comes,

Its meadows, woods, and ample barns, and quaint, stone-
builded homes.

The smooth-shorn vales, the wheaten slopes, the boscage

green and soft,
Of which their poet sings so well from towered Cedarcroft."

The poem was written for the fiftieth anniversary
of- the marriage of John and Hannah Cox, Quakers.
Whittier, with Bayard Taylor who lived near by,
often visited at the house of these Friends. Lowell,
too, speaks of the " Arcadia of Friends in Chester
County," and of the beautiful homes to which he was
welcomed there.

312 JOHN G. WHITTIER.

" Conductor Bradley, (always may his name
Be said with reverence !) as the swift doom came,
Smitten to death, a crushed and mangled frame,

" Sank with the brake he grasped just where he stood
To do the utmost that a brave man could.

" Lo ! the ghastly lips of pain,
Dead to all thought save duty's, moved again:
' Put out the signals for the other train ! ' '

Following the date-clew given by the poet, I look
up an old file of newspapers and find in the New
York " Times," May 9, 1873, an obscure item, such as
we see dozens of every year, — how two cars of a
freight-train were thrown from the track at Tolles
Station on the Hartford, Providence, and Fishkill
Railroad, and Conductor George F. Bradley mortally
injured. Heroic Conductor Bradley found his poet,
and a hundred, a thousand, others just as heroic did
not : that is all the difference. It is the privilege of
genius to touch with immortal lustre what is ordi
narily regarded as a dry prosaic idea.

APPENDIX,
i.

REFERENCE TABLE FOR DATES.

1807. Whittier born, December 17.
1821. Reads Burns for the first time.
1824. Writes poem on William Penn.
Uncle Moses dies.

1826. Poem, " The Deity," published.

1827. Attends Haverhill Academy six months.
Teaches school at West Amesbury.

1828. Another six months' term at Haverhill Academy.
Editor of the " American Manufacturer " in Boston.

In April, Garrison invites subscriptions for the purpose
of publishing a volume of Whittier's poems, to enable
him to pursue his studies longer. Project not realized.

1829. June, 1829, to July, 1830, at home.

1830-31. Edits the " New England Weekly Review " at Hart
ford, Connecticut.

First book published at Hartford, — the little
" Legends of New England."

1831. Visits his father in his last sickness at the Haverhill

farm. Father dies in June.

1832. Gives up editorship of " New England Weekly Review."

From 1832 to 1837 manages the farm in Haverhill.
Writes for " Buckingham's New England Magazine."
In 1832 publishes " Moll Pitcher," and edits the " Lit
erary Remains of J. G. C. Brainard."

1833. Publishes "Justice and Expediency."

Delegate to the National Anti-slavery Convention at
Philadelphia.

1834. Corresponding Secretary of the Haverhill Anti-slavery

Society.

314 APPENDIX.

1835. Mobbed at Concord, New Hampshire.

Chosen member of the Massachusetts State Legislature.

1836. Publishes " Mogg Megone."
Editor of Haverhill " Gazette."

1837. In New York as Secretary of the National Anti-slavery

Society. Visits John Quincy Adams, and edits that
statesman's Letters to his Constituents ; also edits
Miss Harriet Martineau's "Views of Slavery." First
collection of his poems issued by Isaac Knapp.

1838. Joseph Healey, of Philadelphia, publishes a collection of

his poems. From 1838 to 1840 Whittier is in Phila
delphia, editing the " Pennsylvania Freeman." Burn
ing of Pennsylvania Hall in 1838.

1839. In December, 1839, still in Philadelphia (see Preface to

"The North Star").

1840. Edits a booklet of poems called " The North Star."
Farm sold ; family removes to Amesbury.

1841. Helps edit the "American and Foreign Anti-slavery

Reporter " (a monthly) in New York City.

1842. Temporary editor of the "Emancipator" in Boston

(during December, 1841, and January, 1842).

1843. " Lays of my Home " published.

1844. In Lowell, editing the " Middlesex Standard." First

English edition of his poems published in London ;
introduction by Elizur Wright.

1845. Publishes "The Stranger in Lowell."

1846. Aunt Mercy Hussey dies. " Voices of Freedom " pub

lished in Philadelphia by Thomas S. Cavender.

1847. " Supernaturalism in New England." 1847-1850,

associate, or corresponding, editor of the " National
Era."

1849. "Voices of Freedom" (Philadelphia); Mussey's com
plete edition of his poems published in Boston ;
" Leaves from Margaret Smith's Journal."

APPENDIX. 315

1850. "Songs of Labor"; "Old Portraits and Modern
Sketches"; " Little Eva "; collected poems published
in London.

1853. "The Chapel of the Hermits," " A Sabbath Scene."

1854. " Literary Recreations," " Maud Muller."

1856. " The Panorama."

1857. Mother died ; Ticknor's blue and gold edition of poems ;

" Skipper Ireson."

1860. Chosen Member of Electoral College ; publishes " Home

Ballads, and Other Poems."

1861. Death of his sister, Mary Whittier Cartland.

1863. " In War Time, and Other Poems "; "Barbara Frietchie "

published in October in " Atlantic Monthly " ; com
plete edition of his works.

1864. Again member of the Electoral College; death of Eliza

beth Whittier, September 3.

1866. "Snow-Bound"; Prose Works, 2 Vol. edition; "Na

tional Lyrics " published.

1867. " The Tent on the Beach."

1868. " Among the Hills." Also an illustrated edition of his

poems. " Whittier College " founded at Salem, Iowa.

1869. Illustrated edition of " Ballads of New England. "

1870. " Miriam, and Other Poems."

1871. " Child-Life : A Collection of Poems."

1872. " The Pennsylvania Pilgrim."

1873. " Child-Life in Prose " ; Journal of John Woolman

edited.

1874. " Mabel Martin."

1875. " Songs of Three Centuries " ; " Hazel Blossoms."

1876. " Centennial Hymn " published.

1877. Seventieth birthday celebrated in Boston ; founding of a

Whittier Club in Haverhill.

316 APPENDIX.

1878, " The Vision of Echard."

1881. "The King's Missive."

1882. Letters of Lydia Maria Child edited ; " Bay of Seven

Islands " published.

1883. Death of Matthew Franklin Whittier, January 7.

1884. Portrait of Whittier unveiled in Friends' School in

Providence, Rhode Island.

1885. September 10, Reunion of Haverhill Academy gradu

ates. " Poems of Nature " published.

1886. "St. Gregory's Guest, and Recent Poems," published ;

dedicated to General S. C. Armstrong.

1887. Birthday celebrated by school children throughout the

country ; Boston " Advertiser's " Whittier Memorial
issue ; social greetings and gifts of friends at Oak
Knoll.

1890. Birthday again celebrated at Oak Knoll. For his

ballad " The Captain's Well " receives $1,000 from
" New York Ledger."

1891. Eighty-fourth birthday celebrated at home of Joseph

Cartland in Newburyport, Mr. Whittier being present.

1892. Death of Whittier at Hampton Falls, N. H., September

7. Publication of his posthumous volume, " At Sun
down," dedicated to E. C. Stedman.

II.

BIBLIOGRAPHY.

NOTES ON RARE AND EARLY EDITIONS.1

COLLECTED WORKS.

New England Legends in Prose and Verse.

Hartford : Hanmer & Phelps, 1831.

A slender volumet issued in February by the publishers of
the " New England Weekly Review," which Whittier had
been editing. It is his first book, and is now suppressed. A
copy was sold in Boston for $14. The poems are juvenile in
character. Titles of some of the sensational prose tales are
" The Midnight Attack," " The Rattlesnake Hunter," " The
Human Sacrifice," and " The Unquiet Sleeper." " The Spectre
Ship " is a tale in verse.

Poems written during the Progress of the
Abolition Question in the United States,
between the years 1830 and 1838. Boston.
Isaac Knapp, 25 Cornhill, 1837.

Very rare, and quite a pretty booklet ; the first separate col
lection of his poems. Price 37 ^ cts. " Issued in compliance
with the urgent request of a large number of the admirers of
Whittier " (p. 97). Garrison is thought to have been the

1 All the information imparted here has been derived at first
hand from the original copies and first editions.

318 APPENDIX.

editor. Underwood says published in '38 ; so perhaps there
were other editions. Most of the poems were republished in
the " Emancipator" of 1839 and 1840. The frontispiece is a
fine copper-plate engraving, " just received from London " ; it
shows Britannia rebuking a planter who is whipping a slave,
and illustrates a stanza in Cowper's " Morning Dream," — a
poem which is prefixed to the text. Facing each other on fly
leaves are two medallions of slaves in chains, one a man and
the other a woman. Each poem is followed by a pretty tail
piece, — a branch of a tree with fruit, or a sheaf of grain, etc.,
emblems of peace. The weak poem " To George Bancroft,
Esq., Author of the Worcester Democratic Address," not after
wards reprinted ; nor the fine verses on " Governor McDuffie ";
nor a poem by Elizabeth Whittier, " Our Countrymen."

Ballads, Anti-slavery, etc. Joseph Healey: Phil
adelphia, 1838. 180 pp.

Issued November i, Whittier being then editor of the " Free
man " in Philadelphia. Healey was the financial agent of the
National Anti-slavery Society. The motto is from Coleridge :
" I concluded this was not the time to keep silence ; for Truth
should be spoken at all times, but more especially at those
times when to speak Truth is dangerous."

Lays of my Home, and Other Poems. Wm. D.

Ticknor. Boston, 1843.

Issued in May ; the dedication, " To John Pierpont," is in
cluded in the recent complete poetical works. Twenty-three
poems, chiefly non-slavery.

Voices of Freedom. Philadelphia : Thos. S.
Cavender ; Boston: Waite, Pierce & Co.; New
York: Wm. Harned. 5th ed., 1846, 192 pp.
" Several years having elapsed since the first edition," the

preface states. Underwood describes an ed. with the title

"Voices of Freedom. From 1833 to 1848," published by

Lindsay & Blakiston : Philad., 1849.

APPENDIX. 319

Poems by John G. Whittier. Boston : Benjamin
B. Mussey & Co., 1849.

This is, on the whole, the most beautiful eel. of the poems ;
a second ed. appeared in 1850; copyrighted 1848 ; an ed. from
same plates appeared in 1856 (new title-page) by Sanborn,
Carter, & Bazin of Boston. The exquisite steel plates (by H.
Billings), the heavy paper, and large type are explained by the
fact that Mussey was a Free-Soiler, and took a pride in seeing
the laureate's verses in rich dress ; he died in 1857. The plates
were bought by Ticknor & Fields. Mussey was a pill-seller as
well as a publisher. Whittier was overcome with amazement,
and thought the man was demented, when, one day, as they were
walking in Cornhill, Mussey offered him $500 for the copyright
of his poems and a percentage on the sales. However, he
closed with his offer, and was still more astonished at the large
sales of the hitherto ill-dressed and somewhat obscure children
of his brain.

Other noteworthy collections are the little 2-vol.
blue and gold ed. of Ticknor & Fields, 1857, and the
4-vol. ed. of 1888 by Houghton, Mifflin & Co. The
latter forms part of a superb 7-vol. ed. of Whittier's
complete works, with four admirable portraits, hun
dreds of new illustrative notes by Whittier, as well as
new prefaces, entirely new arrangement, or grouping,
of the poems, table of first lines, inclusion of many
early poems which had been dropped out or forgotten,
and a collection of fugitive prose pieces. This ed. is
worth all the others put together, for the scholar.
The present volume, however, contains a half-dozen
of Mr. Whittier's most interesting poems that are not
included in this Boston edition of the poems, besides
many valuable letters and prose articles not included
in the volumes of prose in said edition.

320 APPENDIX.

SINGLE POEMS.

Moll Pitcher. Boston : Carter & Hendee, 1832.

The two copies I have seen are in pamphlet form, and
probably the whole ed. was of that character. The brochure
is printed by Joseph H. Buckingham of Newburyport; no
author's name anywhere given ; 28 pp. in all, including a page
of notes. Poem dedicated to Eli Todd of Hartford; motto
from Cornelius Agrippa ; prefatory note by Whittier. Nearly
a column quotation was made from the poem by Garrison in
his "Liberator," May 8, 1840, eight years after its publication.

There is a poor dramatic poem, " Moll Pitcher," by a certain
J. S. Jones. It was put on the boards at the original National
Theatre in Boston in 1839, the part of Moll being played by
Mrs. William Pelby. The play was given in every State in
the Union which then permitted dramatic performances. The
plot is entirely different from Whittier's, though the heroine
appears as the conventional witch, with red cloak, spectacles,
crutch, and black cat, much as in Whittier's poem.

Mogg Megone. Boston : Light & Stearns, No. i

Cornhill. 1836.
A tiny 32mo of 69 pp.

Little Eva ; Uncle Tom's Guardian Angel. Boston

and Cleveland, 1852. 4to, 4 pp.
Music by Emilio Manuel ; present title " Eva."

A Sabbath Scene. Boston : Ticknor, Reed, &

Fields, 1853.

A thin volume, illustrated by Baker, Smith, and Andrew, in
quaint Sunday-school style.

Snow-Bound is translated in Karl Knortz's
" Zwei Amerikanische Idyllen," with the title " Ein-
geschneit," " Snowed In."

APPENDIX. 321

THE NORTH STAR.

The North Star : The Poetry of Freedom by
her Friends. Philadelphia: Printed by Mer-
rihew & Thompson, No. 7 Carter's Alley, 1840.

Cream-colored covers ; motto from William Penn ; preface
dated " Philadelphia, I2th mo., 1839." That it was edited by
Whittier is certain. In looking over an old bundle of " Eman
cipators " I lighted on a notice of the book by the editor,
Joshua Leavitt, in his issue of Jan. 9, 1840. This was the very
time when Whittier was his contributor and editorial assistant.
Says Mr. Leavitt : " That it is edited in the best taste, and by
one whose real worth does not need to sound its own praises,
may be certainly known from the exclusion of the following
lines, which, we happen to know, were written expressly for
the work, but excluded by the editor." The lines contain a
prophecy that has long since been fulfilled : —

TO JOHN G. WHITTIER.

BY JONATHAN BLANCHARD.

Thy soul is gentle, WHITTIER— yet thy mind
Was made to startle and instruct mankind :
And tyrants dread thee, gentle though thou art —
A lamb in temper with a lion's heart !
Yet so averse to scourge the sins of men,
That others' sufferings only move thy pen.
If thou alone hadst felt the oppressor's wrong,
The world had lost the lightning of thy song.
God, in thy genius, crowned thee with the art
To pour thyself upon the human heart —
Bid thine own soul to thrill along thy line,
An inbreathed fervor only not divine.
New England yet shall hail her gifted son,
When Freedom's work (and Slavery's) is done ;
And own thy fire, caught from her pilgrim-grave*
21

322 APPENDIX.

Hath taught the world that poets are no slaves !
The slave shall hail thee, when his sorrows end,
In nature, as by name and birth, a FRIEND.

In a long notice of the book in the " Liberator," Garrison
says : " Right glad are we to find that the anti-slavery women
of Philadelphia, at their recent fair, have procured the publica
tion of a beautiful little volume, all glittering with light, called
' The North Star : The Poetry of Freedom by her Friends.'
We are indebted for a copy of it, superbly bound, to our es
teemed friend Lucretia Mott, and have perused its contents
with a keen relish and perfect satisfaction."

The preface is in Whittier's style exactly, and is dated Quaker
fashion. So is the longest poem in the book, " ALgypt : a Frag
ment from an Unpublished Poem " (•' Philadelphia, Eleventh
mo., 1839"). I had attributed this to Whittier, from internal
evidence of italicizing, etc., before I read Garrison's notice in
which he also says he ventures to attribute it to him. The
only poem accredited to Whittier in the contents is "The
World's Convention " ; out his " Exiles " ballad here appears for
the first time. Among the contributors are Lucy Hooper (the
Brooklyn, Long Island, young lady on whose subsequent
untimely death Whittier has a poem), Elizabeth Whittier,
James T. Fields, and W. L. J. Kiderlen, who has a poem in
German, — " Der Sterbende Sclave."

Those who have examined the old files know that very many
of Whittier's poems appeared anonymously at first, and it
would have been inconsistent with his habits to acknowledge
the editing of an anthology which contained three or four
poems of his own. And, then, the printing of that " yEgypt "
poem probably gave him qualms afterwards.

Justice and Expediency.— Whittier published his
pamphlet " Justice and Expediency " in June, 1833 (500 copies).
In September it appeared as No. 4 of Vol. I. of the " Anti-
slavery Reporter" (monthly), the organ of the American Anti-
slavery Society, and is advertised as for sale by the single

APPENDIX. 323

copy or by the thousand. This is evidently the Tappan issue
of 5,000 copies. The " Anti-slavery Reporter " was merged
with an " American Anti-slavery Reporter," and the name
was afterwards revived by Lewis Tappan in the " American
and Foreign Anti-slavery Reporter," which Whittier helped
edit in 1840.

Notes. — In 1856, C. H. Brainard, of Boston, published on
one sheet the portraits of Whittier, Seward, Sumner, John P.
Hale, H. W. Beecher, Salmon P. Chase, and Horace Greeley,
styling them the "Seven Champions of Freedom. Rather
an ill-assorted group ! Whittier's portrait occupies the place
of honor, in the centre.

Poems of Whittier especially autobiographic are " Burns,"
" To J. T. F.," " My Birthday," " My Namesake," " My
Triumph," "My Playmate," and " Benedicite."

The first volume of that mild and dainty annual, the
" Liberty Bell," contains five stanzas by Whittier, which, like a
number of his early poems, he has wisely dropped. The last
remark applies to " Reflections of a Belle," in " Liberator,"
Sept. 10, 1831 (quoted from " New England Weekly Review "),
to several pieces in " The Yankee," and early verses in his
"Legends of New England." The " Liberator," Sept. 2, '64,
has a letter by Whittier in defence of General Fremont, who
was nominated for the Presidency at same time with Lincoln.
Whittier cherishes the kindliest feelings for the old standard-
bearer of freedom in '56.

In 1846 Whittier published a poem on the Mexican War.
The entire piece is given in the " Literary World " of Boston,
March 22, '84. The following stanza is the only one of any
particular merit : —

" Ghostly hands in Tenochitlan

Strike the old Aztec battle-drum ;
Sharp of beak and strong of talon,
Lo ! Mexitli's eagles come !"

The writer was told in Amesbury by a friend of Mr. Whit-

324 APPENDIX.

tier's that his nephew, Mr. Pickard, was one day passing the
ash-barrel in the yard, when he noticed a roll of wet crumpled
manuscript. Smoothing it carefully out, he discovered to his
joy that it was the original draft of " Snow-Bound, " written on
fragments of paper pasted together. He spread it out in the
orchard to dry, but on returning after an hour's absence found
his treasure gone ! The poet himself had found it, and de
stroyed it.

For an inscription to be engraved below the cliff-carved
Indian of Preston Powers in Colorado, Mr. Whittier wrote in
1891 these strong lines: —

" The eagle stooping from yon snow-blown peaks,
For the wild hunter and the bison seeks
In the changed world below, and finds alone
Their graven semblance in the eternal stone."

INDEX.

" Abraham Davenport," 310.

"Advertiser, Boston," 196,198.

Allen, Ethan, 140.

Amesbury, 176.

Anti-slavery Convention of '33, 84-89.

"Apology," etc., poem (Concord, N. H.), 97, 98.

Armies of North, Songs sung in, 8.

"Atlantic Monthly," 7.

Bantum, the Quaker, 15.

" Barbara Frietchie," 232.

Barbour, John M., 183.

Bartlett, Wm. Francis, 119.

Batchelder, Stephen, 18.

Bearcamp, 174, 175.

Birthdays, 7oth, 195; 7$th, 196; 77th, 196; 80^,197,198;

82d, 199.

Birthplace, 37~39-
Boar's Head, 304, 305.
Bores, 193.

"Branded Hand," 117.
" Bridal of Pennacook," 310.
Bright, John, 203.
Brown, John, 135, 240, 252.
" Brown of Ossawatomie," 240, 252.

326 INDEX.

" Brown Dwarf of Riigen," 276.
Browning, 115.
" Burial of Barber," 116.
Burleigh, Wm. A., 71 (note).
Burns, Robert, 41.

" Calef in Boston, 1692," 293.

Carriage Builders' Association, 190.

" Cassandra Southwick," 287.

Chalkley, Thos., 103.

" Changeling, The," 304, 305.

Child, Lydia Maria, 70, 74, 133, 136.

Clarke, James Freeman, 77, 119 (note).

Clarke, Willis Gaylord, 56.

Coffin, Joshua, 39, 88.

" Conductor Bradley," 311.

Concord, N. H., mob, 91-96; poem on, 97.

Collyer, Robert, 41, 43, 171.

" Cry of a Lost Soul," 269.

Cushing, Caleb, 145.

Dzctamnus, 9.

Dom Pedro, 204, 269.

" Double-headed Snake," 301.

Downing, Hon. Geo. P., 83.

Egypt Exploration Fund, 190.
Emery, Mrs. Sarah, Reminiscences, 14.
Emerson, R. W., 201.
Emerson, Moses E., 49.
Everett, Edward, 99, 102.
" Exiles, The," 289.

Fields, Jas. T., 208.
Folsom, Abigail, 71 (note).
Foster, Stephen, 70.
Fullerton, Wm. M., 186 (note).

INDEX. 327

Garrison, Wm. Lloyd, 45-48, 62, 63, 67-69, 80; mobbed, 90;

in, 147-169, 207.

Garrison, Wendell Phillips, 128 (note).
" Garrison of Cape Ann," 297.
Garrison house, 36.
Goody Martin, 305, 306.
Goody Cole, 305, 306.
" Golden Wedding of Longwood," 311.
Grimke sisters, 104.

Hale, Edward Everett, 128.
Hall, Arethusa, 54, 55.
Haverhill Academy reunion, 196.
Hawthorne, 137, 202.
Hazard, Rowland G., 78.
Higginson, T. W., 1 10, 171.
Howitt, Mary, 23, 203.
Holmes, Dr. O. W., 201.
Hurd, Chas. E., 296.
Hutchinson family, 129, 130.
" Hymn of the Dunkers," 306.

" Ichabod," 113.

" In the ' Old South,' " 291.

Ireson, Skipper, 226.

" John Underhill," 296.

" Justice and Expediency," 63-65.

" Kansas Emigrants" Song, 8, 127, 128.

Kallundborg Church, 274.

Kennedy, Wm. Sloane, Sr., 76 (note), 79.

Kelley, Abby, 70.

Kent, George, 93.

" King's Missive," 262.

" King Volmer and Elsie," 271.

Korner, 58.

328 INDEX.

" Laus Deo," 134.
Liberty Party, 146-169.
Lincoln, Abraham, 130—133.
Livermore, Rev. S. T., 29.
Livermore, Harriet, 29-36.
Longfellow, 73, 144, 200, 201.
Lord, Wm. W., 115.
Lowell, Jas. R.t 201, 205.
Lucknow, 254.

Martineau, Harriet, 70, 90.

McDuffie, poem to, 121, 123.

Mercy, Aunt, 22, 25, 26.

Mobs, 89-109.

" Mogg Megone," 62.

Moll Pitcher, 277.

Morse, Aunt, 15.

Mott, Lucretia, 88, 108, 159, 178.

" My Playmate," 296.

" National Era," 147.

Negroes, 80-84 ; burning of, 78 (note) ; blackballed, 81,

Oak Knoll, 176,179-186.

Palatine, 243.

Parrot, Whittier's, 192.

Pennsylvania Hall burned, 102-108.

Piatt, Gen. J. J., 134.

Pillsbury, Parker, 72.

" Pipes at Lucknow," 254.

Prang, Louis, 194.

" Prophecy of Samuel Sewall," 311.

"Quakers Are Out," 168.
Quakers in the War, 138, 139.
Quincy, Edmund, 162.

INDEX.

" Rantoul," 119.
Rogers, N. P., 154.
Ronge, Jean, 120, 121.

Scotch dialect, poem in, by Whittier, 50.

Shaw, Col., 136.

" Song of the Vermonters," 140.

Spofford, Harriet Prescott, 12, 202

Stedman, E. C, 7.

Stanhope, Lady Hester, 31-35.

" Stanzas for the Times," 124-126.

Street, Hon. Jackson B., 52.

" Swan Song of Parson Avery," 298.

Taylor, Bayard, 7, 204.
Thaxter, Celia, 12.
" Tent on the Beach," 7, 304.
" Telling the Bees," 220.
Thayer, Prof. J. B., no.
Thayer, Eli, 127, 128.
Thompson, George, 92, 96.
Turner, Bishop H. M., 82.

Underhill, John, 296.

Valdemar IV., 273.

" Vermonters, Song of The," 140.

Volmer, King, 273.

Walker, Capt. Jonathan, 117.

War, Whittier's attitude toward, 134-143.

Washington, George, 99-101.

Webster, Daniel, 15, 18, 19, 56, 113-115.

Weld, Angelina, 104.

Weld, Theodore, 104.

Whipple, Edwin P., 7, 206.

White, George M., 16 (note), 173, 187.

Whitman, Walt, 179, 199, 220, 244, 251.

329

330 INDEX.

Whittier Club, 195.

Whittier, Elizabeth, 27, 28.

Whittier, John (the father), 24.

Whittier, John Greenleaf, first school, 39; first loves, 40, 190,
191 ; Burns, 41-43 ; first poems, 44, 45, 46 ; as shoemaker,
48-50; at Haverhill Academy, 50-56 ; as editor, 59-62 ; at
tends anti-slavery convention of '33, 84-89 ; mobbed, 89-97,
102-108; poems of freedom, 109-133; songs by, sung in
Union armies, 8, 128-130 ; W. and war, 134-143 ; as lobbyist
and attender of conventions, 143-145; helps organize the
Free-Soil party, 146 ; political differences with Garrison,
146-169; London Convention, 1 55-162 plove of children,
191-193; bores, 193, 194; friends, chapter iv. ; correspond
ence destroyed, 208, 209; as Quaker, 210-214; religion,
214-217; on woman suffrage, 218.

Whittier, Mary, 26.

Whittier, Matthew Franklin, 24, 25.

Whittier, Mrs., 23,

Whittier, Uncle Moses, 26, 27.

Winther, Christian, 274.

Wingate, Rev. Chas., 53.

Woman suffrage, 218.

" Wreck of the Palatine," 243.

" Wreck of Rivermouth," 304.

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